Beckoning To Serve
by Hatsuri Botosai
Summary: Out of nowhere, a strange young girl comes looking for one of the only three things she can remember: the names Rembaldi, and Sark.
1. Master and Lynx

Beckoning To Serve 

**By Hatsuri Botosai**

**Disclaimer- I do not own ALIAS, or any of the characters associated with that excellent show.  I do own my own original characters and all of my own original plots.  Any other author or creator using my characters and plots without my personal consent will be subject to reporting to the Webmaster for plagiarism. **

**Chapter 1- Master and Lynx**

Location- Somewhere in Wales, England

Date- July 23, 2003

The girl stopped climbing and caught her breath, "Twenty more meters. Thank God he has trees," She took the cigarette out of the corner of her mouth and blew the smoke into the air before her. A thin red line appeared where the smoke was blown. She gingerly stepped over the space where the security trigger was onto another branch. She repeated her trigger search until she reached the last tree, and carefully climbed down to the ground. She was about five meters from the large manor house.

The girl threw down her cigarette and ground it out with her foot. She carefully walked up to the house, making sure she did not trigger any alarms or explosives. When she reached one of the many large windows, the girl took out what appeared to be a tube of Chap Stick. But, when she removed the cap, the girl pressed the tip on the rim of the glass and squeezed. Acid ran from the tip and ate through the three-foot wide square. The girl stood back and replaced the ca on her tube as the glass fell lightly onto the bush below. 

The girl hoisted herself through the window and landed lightly in a crouched position on the floor. She stood up and looked carefully around the large room. Floor to ceiling bookcases filled with old volumes decorated three of the five walls. The fourth wall held the window, and the door made up the fifth wall. A large oak table with four matching chairs stood in the middle of the large study. In the days when this manor was new, this had been one of the towers.

The girl crossed the room and opened the door. She walked out into a high ceiling, stone corridor. She couldn't see any guards, but she knew there were at least five; she'd seen their shadows in the windows from the outside. She walked down the hall, careful to not make any noise on the stone tile. 

"Going good so far," the girl whispered. Then, she slipped on a puddle of water on the floor. She fell down a set of stairs and landed on her head with a loud WHACK. The girl didn't get up; she was unconscious.

* * *

Location- Los Angeles, California, USA

Date- July 23, 2003

"Good work in Shanghai, Agent Bristow," Director Dixon praised the smiling young woman. Kendell had retired and Dixon was now Director of the Los Angeles CIA division. "Okay, as all of you know, Sloane and Derevko have evaded capture and surveillance for almost two months. This concerns us because we don't know what Rembaldi discoveries they have made,"

"We also have no idea what Ildire actually is," Sydney interjected.

"Exactly," Vaughn supported and smiled at his fiancé. After their trip to Santa Barbara, Vaughn had proposed to Sydney in one of their favorite coffee shops. They were to be married the following spring. "This could be some sort of weapon."

Jack Bristow nodded, "It could be more dangerous than the first Rembaldi weapon used in Mexico City by Sark,"

"What happened to Sark anyway?" Sydney did not know due to her hospitalization on the night Alison Doran had been made as Francie's double.

"He was released," Jack said crisply.

"Excuse me?" Sydney was in shock.

"There wasn't enough tangible evidence to tie him to any of the crimes he did," Vaughn sighed. "That bastard did a lot of clean work through a lot of loyal contacts,"

"So he just went free," Sydney sighed heavily. "Great. One of the worst contract killers in the world and an ally of Arven Sloane just went free,"

"Sydney, if it makes you feel any better, we know he went to Europe, but we lost him after that," Dixon took out two folders from his briefcase and handed them to Sydney and Vaughn. "You're going to Berlin. We have intel that Sloane has been sighted there. We want you to check it out. Your contact will be at a nightclub called Cerynx Mix. Your plane leaves in three hours,"      

* * *

"Uhn," The girl slowly opened her eyes. She looked around and found her hands tied together under her legs, which were tied at the feet as well. Clearly, who ever had tied her up thought she wouldn't be able to escape this way. She was perfectly balanced on top of a wooden stool, to which her hips and waist were tied. The girl grunted as she adjusted herself. Then, she took her hands and, with great difficultly to not fall over, she pulled her hands over her feet. She leaned over so that she was bent over with the stool sticking straight out horizontally. "Humph, alrighty then," The girl suddenly jumped up with her legs and feet straight out in front of her. She really felt it when the stools legs gave out under the weight and she landed butt first on the stone floor. The girl finally managed a standing position, and hopped over to a nearby chair.

The room was dimly lit, and, through the shadows, the girl saw a wardrobe, a bureau with a mirror, two other chairs and a coffee table, and a four-poster bed. A large window overlooked a large, black lake. She was in one of the towers again. The girl sat back and began to undo the knot in front of her with her teeth. Suddenly, the room burst with light as the door banged open.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," A smooth, cool English voice sounded. A tall, young blonde man walked over and stood before the girl. He looked at her through his gray eyes. "My bodyguards don't like it when intruders try to escape,"

"Well, where were they when I got in? They seem to be very inept," The girl remarked coolly.

"Yes, they do seem to lack certain qualities," The man turned back to the three large shadows in the doorway. "You three leave us. I have to discuss certain things with our young intruder before I berate you," The three men shuffled away, their movements suggesting anxiety. The man got himself a chair from the other side of the room, and turned back to his captive. He seated himself and peered at the girl, "My name is Sark. Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?"

The girl shifted and did not meet his gaze, "I came here searching for something. As for your other question, I don't know,"

Sark creased his eyebrows, "Don't know what?"

"My name. I can't remember anything except for three things," The girl looked straight at him. "Your name, the name Rembaldi, and the name Lynx," 

"What do you know about Rembaldi?" Sark leaned forward. Finally, his questions could possibly be answered. 

"Nothing. I can't remember anything about myself or anything else," The girl looked away.

Sark decided to drop the subject of Rembaldi for the moment. Onto another subject that bothered him, "How did you break into my grounds and succeed in getting into my house? I have wire and laser security triggers, infrared sensors, guards, and security dogs. Most **agents** couldn't get inside,"

"Your security is actually pretty easy to over ride. I got into the grounds by climbing up a tree branch that hung over the fence on the east end. I avoided the wire triggers in the ground by climbing and jumping in the trees. I was fortunate enough to find a still-burning cigarette dropped by one of your guards. I used its smoke to find the laser triggers in the trees. I used acid to break through a ground level window. As for the dogs," The girl smiled. "I covered myself in scent-killer before entering the grounds,"

"You seem very adept at stealth. What are you? Fifteen, sixteen?" Sark half-smiled. "Where did you train?"

"I'm seventeen, and I can't remember anything!" The girl was getting irritated. " And how old are you? Twenty-eight? Thirty?"

"I'm twenty-three, thank you," Sark's smile dropped. "I repeat, where did you train?"

"I can't remember! Haven't you been listening to anything?" The girl tossed her long, brunette braid over her shoulder angrily.  

"Yes, I have," Sark was calculating. Get this girl on his side, and she could prove to be quite an asset. "What if I could get you your memory back? I've heard of some techniques that can repair amnesia. Work for me, and I can make it happen," Sark already knew her answer. He held out his hand. "What do you say?"

The girl thought about it. Sure, he was a bit creepy, but he said he would be able to get her memory back. It was worth it. She shook his hand with both of hers, "Deal. Now get me out of these restraints!"

Sark obliged as he said, "Now, what should I call you? You said you only remembered the names Rembaldi, Sark, and Lynx. And, since you can't remember your own name, you'll be called Lynx,"

The girl decided not to implore for a different name. This seemed to be a man whose decisions were decided. "What should I call you? Sark? Mr. Sark?" Lynx rolled her ankles to regenerate circulation as Sark undid her hands.

"Call me whatever you like," Sark finished untying her, and got up. He went to the door and stood in the light. "You're now one of my personal associates. You'll be given weapons and some training tomorrow."

Lynx got up and went to the window. She stared out at the dark blue and purple sky, "Yes. Thank you, Master,"

Sark turned a bit and saw her at the window out of the corner of his eye. "Hmm," He sighed before exiting the room to go berate his guards.

* * *

Location- Berlin, Germany

"Hmmmm," 

"What now?" Sydney smiled a bit as she walked through the crowded, pumping German club.

"Oh, nothing," Vaughn's voice sounded filtered through Sydney's communicator. He had taped into the clubs surveillance system so he could watch her every move. He actually sat in a van about a block from the club. "You just look really good with that spiked red hair,"

"Danka, darling," Sydney grinned as she took a stool at the bar. She was in one of her famous get-ups. Her red, shorthaired wig matched perfectly with her plaid mini-skirt. Her leather bustier was outfitted with another security camera in the black crystal embellishment. "So, when's our contact supposed to show up?"

"He should be walking through the door right about now," Vaughn's voice clipped. "Look for black hair and about three body guards,"

Sydney nonchalantly looked towards the clubs entrance. Through the sea of jumping bodies, she managed to spot a tall, black haired man wearing a suit that looked like he came from Vegas. Three burly men who made way for their employer surrounded him. Sydney watched the man and his guards take a booth near the back exit. "Got him. I'm going in,"

"Good luck, Sydney," Vaughn's voice cut out.

Sydney got off her bar stool, and walked slowly over the booth. She glided over, getting threatening glances from the bodyguards. She rested her fingertips on the table surface.

"May I offer you a drink?" The dark haired man offered, looking her up and down.

"Yes, I heard the Bloody Mary's are wonderful here," Sydney recited her contact signal.

The mans face fell; he definitely did not think she was CIA. "Please, sit down," His voice hinted Italian, yet he spoke English with almost no accent.

"Thank you," Sydney scooted into the booth and sat opposite her informant. "Now, what can you say about Arven Sloane?"

"Look, if I'm found out," The man started to sweat.

"We'll make sure nothing happens to you," Sydney reassured. "Sloane?"

"Yeah, he's living in Cairo with Irina Derevko. I was a contact killer he'd hired to do a job for him in New York. They're investigating something. I don't know exactly what, but it was about some dead guy," The man shrugged. "Can't remember the name,"

"Rembaldi," Sydney sighed. "Anything else?"

"No, nothing. But, after Cairo, they plan to go to Moscow," The man looked around nervously before sliding out of the booth. "Sorry, but I have to go," The man slid out of the booth and gestured for his guards to follow him. 

Sydney watched the man disappear into the crowd. "Well, that turned up almost nothing," She sighed and rested her elbows on the table.

"No, we know where Sloane and your mother are now, and where they'll be soon," Vaughn's voice reassured. "I'll have the security team follow our informant for about two hours. He'll be fine after that,"

"Okay," Sydney watched the man approach the exit, and hold the door open for another man and his date. Yet, the man and the woman entering reached into their jackets and pull out a handgun each. Sydney watched in horror as her contact and his bodyguards took two to three rounds in the chest.

The club erupted in screams and shouting. Sydney jumped from her booth and ran over to where the assassins were beginning to retreat through the door. She pulled out her own tranquilizer gun from its hidden area under her skirt and fired one small dart into the back of the female assassin. 

"Sheila!" The male assassin turned around at the shot and was swiftly kicked by Sydney across the face. He stumbled back to a wall, and was pinned at the throat by Sydney's arm.

"Who sent you here?" She yelled. "Who informed you of the meet?"

The man choked and groaned, "Sloane, Arven Sloane!"

Sydney hit him smartly in the temple with her elbow. She stood back breathing heavily as Vaughn contacted her on her communicator, "Syd, what was that? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Michael, I'm fine. Our informant and his bodyguards were shot. I just took out the assassins," She breathed raggedly.

"I'll send in a task force to apprehend them. I'll be around soon to extract you. I'll be there in two minutes," His voice cut out.

"Great, thanks," Sydney leaned up against the wall. _That didn't go very well,_ she thought.

* * *

He had found her and tied her up himself. His good for nothing guards were definitely in for a pay cut. Sark stormed at them with unrestrained fury, which for him was eerie calm with glaring eyes, "What if she had been CIA? Do you know what could have happened? She could have killed all of us, destroyed this household, and none of us would have been the wiser. Explain yourselves," He stood with his arms crossed. His ten guards sat with their eyes at the floor. This was pretty pathetic for thirty-something old burly men with guns. "I said, EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!" Sark's calm broke and he smacked the closest guard across the face.

"You heard her yourself. She climbed in the trees," One of the guards finally spoke up.

"What about when she got in the house? What then?" Sark walked over to the one who had talked. "You were down here, in the barracks again, weren't you? Taking another break?"

"It's been quiet since the CIA released you. No one would dare mess with Sark," The guard looked up into his employer's eyes defiantly. "You're too insecure,"

Sark reached into the jacket of his suit, "No one talks to me like that," Without a second thought, he shot the man clear through the head. Sark looked around, still holding his gun. "Anyone else have an excuse?"

The men, still looking at the ground, shook their heads, "Good, now get back to your posts. You two, clean this up," Sark dismissed the rest of his guards with a wave of his hand. He himself walked out of the room and up a staircase to his surveillance room.

He sat down at his chair in front of the wall of TV screens and sighed. He pulled up the surveillance of the room where Lynx was with a click of a remote control. She strolled around the old tower chamber with her hands behind her back. She was very tall, very thin, and even a little pretty Sark decided. That long hair of hers would get in the way; he'd have her cut it. Lynx looked straight up at the camera, seeming to know he was watching her. Even if the picture was only black and white, her green-colored eyes still shone brightly on the screen.

Sark had seen something familiar in her when he had seen Lynx look up at him when he had come into the room to question her. Her thin, angular face, her pouty lips, and her imploring eyes all seemed to remind him of something. "Ah, yes," He sighed. "This woman, who shall bear unseen marks," He recited. "This is she. The herald of the second coming of Rembaldi." Sark half-smiled as he stared at the screen. "I have you," 

AUTHOR'S NOTE- Hey! This is Tsuri, the author. This is my first ALIAS fic, and I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter. Now, for all of you wondering about certain details (certain BIG details) let me explain them for you. Even though I love the third season of ALIAS, I've come up with my own certain little story of a different way things could have gone. Basically, I have completely disregarded the third season, and the last fifteen minutes of the season finale of season two. So, for all of those lost, Sloane and Derevko are still bad, Sydney never lost her memory or went missing, Vaughn is not married to the bushy eye browed blonde, Sark (my fav ALIAS character) is currently neither bad or good, and I have added a new element to the mix, Lynx! Lynx's past will eventually be explained, but not now. Also, she gets together with someone, but you'll have to read more to find out who. 

Another note, foreign languages will periodically be used throughout the story, but I'll always provide a translation, either in this note, or through italics in the actual dialog. 

Danka- German for "Thanks"

Hope you enjoyed! Please review!

Love, Tsuri    


	2. Unimportance

**Chapter 2- Unimportance**

Location- Los Angeles

Dmitri sat in a gray room in a metal chair at a metal table. The woman, the same one who had shot his Sheila in Germany, she sat across from him.  He twisted his wrists; the handcuffs were almost too tight.  Dmitri looked at the tall, husky man who stood behind her to the right. The agent returned his glare.

"I repeat, what is your name?" The woman asked patiently.

Dmitri spat in her face, "Up yours,"

The husky agent came around, took his head by the hair, and smashed his face into the table angrily. "Answer her!" he demanded.

"Weiss!" The woman stood up. "Let him go," The husky agent let go of his hair, but still stood behind him. The woman sat down, "Now, tell me your name. We already know you and Sheila Erickson work for Sloane. All we need is your name,"

Dmitri felt blood trickling from his nose, "Where's Sheila?"

"She's being questioned by another agent," Agent Weiss replied. "Now, your name?"

"I want to see her," Dmitri implored the female agent.

"Your name first," The woman said. "Then I'll see what I can do,"

Dmitri considered, "Dmitri. Dmitri Masenkov,"

"There, now was that so painful?" Agent Weiss moved back towards the woman.

"It was, actually, thanks to you," The blood was still flowing from Dmitri's nose. 

"We need to ask you some more questions," The female agent said calmly.

"Why did you kill our contact?" Agent Weiss crossed his arms and glared.

"Because I was ordered to. That's how it usually works," Dmitri smiled and snorted.

"So, Arven Sloane ordered you to kill him," The female agent was taking it all in.

"No, I was ordered by another, whose orders came from Sloane," Dmitri smiled again. So, she had been right, they were ahead at this point in the game. "My orders come from Derevko, whose orders come from Sloane,"

"Where is Sloane?" Agent Weiss asked.

"I don't know," Dmitri shook his head.

"Where is Sloane?" Agent Weiss repeated, this time with more heat.

"I told you, I don't know!" Dmitri yelled. "No one does, except for Derevko, and she's not saying anything; especially to a contract killer like me or Sheila,"

"How are you involved with Ms. Erickson?" The female agent wondered.

"Agent Bristow, are you sure," Agent Weiss looked iffy on this question for some reason.

"Weiss, I'm fine," Agent Bristow cut him off. "I repeat, how are you involved with Ms. Erickson?"

Sadness overcame Dmitri. He looked solemnly up at the woman, "Sheila is my wife. She's my hope," He cringed and his shoulders shook as he hung his head. "My hope that some day we could be together as a normal family,"

"That's enough," Agent Bristow said, gesturing for the guard to come take him away.

* * *

There was a woman; a tall, dark woman. Lynx couldn't see her face, but she sensed she knew it. This was her mother, and Lynx was only three years old. There was a boy too. He had a blurred face as well, but Lynx had an impression she knew him. He was about nine or ten years old, and had a mass of curly hair.

"Come on!" He called. "She's waiting!" He ran ahead of her, and jumped into the arms of her mother as she hugged him close. It was a glorious day in a bright yellow and green park. Many other small families were out today was well, walking or running in the sea of green.

"Darling, come on now!" The woman called as joyfully as the boy had.

"Momma!" Lynx ran forward, but fell. She was immediately picked up, but not by her mother. A big, burly man in a suit was holding her, and taking her away. Fear seized Lynx, and she kicked and screamed.

The boy cried and tried to run after her. Her mother called her name, but the man holding her wouldn't let go.

"Momma!" Lynx cried. She then jolted straight up in bed, and remembered nothing from her dream.

* * *

"This is Irina Derevko," Sark laid the photo in front of her as she sat at the table in the study. "She is our superior. She used to work for the Russians. Now, she's a rogue who's allied herself with this man," Sark laid down another photo. "Arven Sloane. Former Army Corps, former CIA, former Alliance, and is now on a mission to discover the secrets of Rembaldi."  

"What or who is Rembaldi?" Lynx studied the two faces on the table. The woman looked cool, aloof, and dangerous. She reminded Lynx of a lioness, ready to hunt, pounce, and kill at any moment. The man looked better. He looked like a scholar and a great mind. Lynx liked him immediately.

"Milo Rembaldi was a scholar whose scientific genius rivals modern scientists. He invented numerous objects that he scattered around the world, thirty to be exact. All of these mysterious objects come together to form a machine called Ildire, The Telling," Sark came around behind Lynx and stood with his arms crossed, staring out the window. "Rembaldi was also a prophet, mainly of his own destiny. Some of Rembaldi's disciples interpret his manuscripts as him telling of the Second Coming,"

"An apocalypse?" Lynx turned in her chair to look at her Master's back.

Her Master turned around, "No, a child." Sark began pacing in the study again. "There is a prophecy of a woman, a woman with no physical marks to identify her, who would bring about the Second Coming. It is not known how, but most believe she is to bear the child of Rembaldi."

"Well, the prophecy's a fluke then," Lynx commented.

Sark stared at her, "What do you mean?"

"Rembaldi's dead. How are he and this woman supposed to, you know," Lynx slightly blushed.

Sark considered. "There are different interpretations. A descendant could do it, of course, but the tracing process is almost impossible,"

Lynx shrugged. "Anyway, who is this woman? Has anyone found her?"

Sark turned away, "I believe that I have found some one who is, but only time will tell," He turned back around, "As Derevko would say, truth takes time," Sark walked up and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a ball of twisted, knotted string. He placed it on the table in front of Lynx. "This is a test. Unknot the string by any means necessary. You have one hour,"

Lynx studied the ball. How could she possibly do this? What was Master up to? She didn't know him well yet; it could be anything. Lynx creased her eyebrows and stared hard. There! The answer was plain as day. Lynx smiled as she reached into her sweater jacket and pulled out a pocketknife she'd hidden there. Taking the blade, she promptly cut a string in the middle of the ball. Then, after replacing her knife, she took the two cut ends and pulled. The ball came apart into two equal strings. Lynx placed them on the table and stared up at Sark. He stared down at her.

"Well done, even if you did break the rules," He picked up the two strings and put them in his pocket.

"The rules weren't broken, just bent. You told me to unknot the string by any means necessary, and I did," Lynx was slightly surprised when Sark patted her on the head.

"Good, you pass," Sark walked toward the door. He motioned with his hand for her to follow. "Come, Lynx. I have a special treat for you in the basement,"

_What in the hell is he up to? _Lynx wondered. "Yes, Master"

* * *

"Hey, are you okay?" Vaughn sat down on the edge of Sydney's desk. His Chinese take-out lunch was still being eaten as he fed himself Moo Shoo Pork with chopsticks. 

"Yeah, just a little tired," Sydney put away her debrief reports and stared at her fiancé. "You have rice on your chin," 

Vaughn wiped off his chin. "So, what did you find out from your guy?"

Sydney knew he meant Dmitri Masenkov, "Sloane is not with my mother. No one except her knows where he is apparently."

"So, the Intel we got from our contact in Berlin was faulty," Vaughn sighed. "Great. So, we now have no leads to Derevko or Sloane. Could the day get any better?"

"You know the woman you were interrogating?" Sydney asked. "Sheila Erickson?"

Vaughn looked interested, "Yeah, what about her?"

"She's Masenkov's wife," Sydney looked down.

Vaughn's face brightened up, "Oh!"

"What?"

"It all makes sense now!" Vaughn half smiled.

Sydney stood up and crossed her arms, "Michael, what's going on?"

"Erickson said something about how they were going to become personal associates if they successfully pulled this job off." Vaughn gave a short sigh. "How they would finally be able to tell Derevko about it,"

"About what?" Sydney was lost.

"Well, apparently when they eloped, the Masenkov's discovered Intel about an old CIA project that had just been finished. The Parisian priest who married them used to be Russian intelligence.  He told them something about a project known as Project Lifetime. He seemed to think Derevko would find it interesting,"

Sydney creased her eyebrows, "What's Project Lifetime?"

Vaughn shrugged, "I don't know, I'm not sure on the fine details. All I was able to find out was that it was a little like the Project Christmas you father subjected you to,"

"In what way was it similar?"

Vaughn sighed. _She's not going to like this,_ "Instead of training six year olds for only two months, Project Lifetime trained kids for nearly thirteen years, from the time they were three until they are sixteen to eighteen. It made them into people programmed to be agents."

Sydney looked at the ground, "How many?" Her voice cracked, Vaughn knew she didn't like news like this. 

"Erickson told me about fifty," Vaughn sighed.

Sydney collected her reports from her desk and stored them in her side bag, "I have to go see the, the uh, the wedding planner," She looked at Vaughn; her eyes were shining. "I'll be home around five,"

"I'll go with you," Vaughn was trying to be supportive. "I just need to run to my desk,"

Sydney nodded, "Okay,"

* * *

Sark led Lynx down a set of moist, dark stairs. The air smelled like mold. The stone tower steps kept going deeper and deeper. When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Lynx was standing in an old medieval torture chamber. The rack, a cross that would slowly rip your arms off, a bed of nails, all of these different devices lined the walls. The only thing that had changed the room in nearly two hundred years was the electricity Sark had wired down. A single bulb burned in the middle of the room. Under this light was a bound, gagged, and blindfolded man. He sat in a wooden chair and seemed to be about the same age as Sark. He moved at the sounds of Lynx and her Master moving down the stairs. He tried in vain to call for help behind his gag.

Sark moved over to the man and Lynx followed. He crouched down to the man left side and removed his blindfold. "Meet Mr. Latyner. He was foolish enough to trespass onto my grounds, only he got caught. He's CIA, and you know what that means." Sark stood up and walked to Lynx' side. "This is my newest associate, Lynx. She's a very capable young woman. Have you been shown good hospitality, Mr. Latyner?"

The man nodded. Lynx noticed he had begun to cry.

"Good, I should hate to hear one of my guests was being mistreated. Have you been a good little boy, Mr. Latyner, as you mother taught you?" Sark seemed unpulsed at the man's crying, and smiled when he nodded. "Very well. Lynx has been a good girl, she's proven herself very nicely." Sark turned away and began to walk up the stairs. "Have fun with your new toy, Lynx,"

The young man continued to cry, even as Lynx crouched down in front of him, "There, there, don't be such a baby. You're afraid you're going to die, aren't you? *nod* You're afraid I'm going to put you on the rack, or have your arms torn off, or do any other unseemly things to make you suffer that will make you beg for death aren't you? *nod nod nod* Well, you are going to die, that is a matter of fact. Master has given me my orders, and I must carry them out. But, how to do it?"

The man looked up into the eyes of his soon-to-be murderer. _What on earth is she talking about? Wait! I know her! _The man grew excited and began to try to bounce up and down and gesture for her to take his gag off.

"Hey, stop it," Lynx told him as she stood up. The man wouldn't quit moving. "I told you to stop."

_This has to be her! _He thought ravenously. _She has to know me! She must know! _He continued to become more frantic.

"If you don't stop moving I'll put you on the rack!" Lynx grew angry at this prisoner's insolence. Her eyes raged and she seemed to loose control of her emotions. "I said STOP IT!"

* * *

(Warning; graphic)

It was almost two hours later. Sark moved briskly down the stairs. _Let's see how our unlucky friend faired under Lynx. I wonder if she made his death long or short. Who cares really, even if he's still alive? She'll just get to play with him more tomorrow. _Sark was moving quickly to the bottom of the stairs. There was the same moldy stench in the air, but it was hinted now with something more; something coppery. Sark reached the bottom of the tower stairs, and was mortified for a short instant. Blood painted nearly every surface. Human skin and bone fragments littered the floor. Human hair was stuck in places where the blood was pooling. Lynx had made use of the delimbing cross as well. Sark almost threw up when he saw what was left of Agent Latyner's torso on the old wooden rack in the corner. Lynx had out done herself, a million times over. _She's more fearsome than me, _Sark thought, a_ very lovely trait in an associate. _Sark stopped and stared at Lynx's kneeling form in the center of the room. She was absolutely covered in human blood and was kneeling in a two-foot diameter pool of it. Her head was down and her arms were motionless at her sides.

(Graphic part over)

"Well done, Lynx," Sark held his breath against the smell. "Now. Let's get you upstairs for a shower,"

Lynx still remained motionless, "Master?"

Sark crouched down, careful not to get any blood on his nice suit, "Yes, Lynx?" He lifted her chin with his hand and nearly fell over in shock.

It wasn't that Lynx's face was flecked in blood; her bright green eyes were even brighter from crying. Tears flowed in great streams down her face and she sobbed openly, "I didn't like my surprise, Master,"

"Oh, Lynx," Sark sighed as he helped her stand up. Then, he picked her up (she was surprisingly light), and he himself carried her up the tower stairs as she continued to cry into his lapel.

AUTHOR'S NOTE- What a sad ending! (Sniff sniff). Oh, well. So, this is the second chap. Don't hate Lynx just because she just killed someone. She's suffering right now as I write. She'll suffer in the next chapter too, so she'll get her just desserts.

So, what do you think project lifetime is? I'll give fifty super reader credit points to the reader who can guess how it's important before the next chapter is up. Tee hee, I love this!

Luv, Tsuri

Got to go now; sleepy time. U_U. . .ZzzZzz


	3. Primal Instinct

**Chapter 3- Primal Instinct**

"Yes, she is quite good at what she does. Yes, Ma'am, I understand, but she's a little distressed right now," Sark paced in his private study which was different than the tower room in the fact that it was in what used to be the keep of the manor. "Well, for instance, I took her to her room and she wouldn't come back out. Nearly two hours and all the while she had the shower running. When I asked her what was wrong she kept screaming, 'I want to be clean again! The stain's still there!'. I really don't know when. Tonight? Yes, we will," Sark flinched slightly as Irina Derevko slammed down the phone on the other end. "That woman will be the end of me," He whispered, as if Derevko could hear him. He walked briskly to a floor to ceiling painting of a dancing maiden near the door of his study. Knocking three times in the exact middle of the painting, he stood back and waited patiently. With a soft rumble, the painting split in the middle and opened slowly to reveal a dark, dank passageway lit by electric lights. Sark had to duck down the passage because of his height. He walked for about five meters before going left at a fork, and then right ten more meters down. He stopped before an old wooden door with an old rusted handle that was about the size of a mini fridge. He pulled hard at the handle, and crouched down to go through the small door. The space he found himself in was about five by seven feet with a depth of about a foot and a half. Careful not to upset the space's contents, he found the crease between the woods and pushed hard. Light exploded into the space, and Sark stepped out of the wardrobe into Lynx's bedroom. 

Sark scanned the room. Lynx was on a chair she had moved to the windowsill. She sat enraptured by a lap top screen. Lynx didn't even notice him coming over to stare at the screen over her shoulder. That, or she didn't care. On the screen were an electric encyclopedia link and a picture of a big cat with pointed ears on top of a snowy hill. Lynx sat twirling a lock of still wet hair contemplatively. 

"What's this? Where did you find that?" Sark asked after a long silence.

"I found it stashed in the wardrobe. The encyclopedia software was already programmed into the hard drive. I just was reading to pass the time," Lynx said in a faraway voice.

"What is that thing?" Sark had never seen such an animal.

"It's a lynx. A fierce, powerful wildcat found in the Northern Hemisphere, having a short tail and tufted ears," Lynx shot a glance at her Master then looked back at the screen. " I was trying to find out what "Lynx" was. That's a lynx."

"Well, it certainly looks evil," Sark stood up. "I have something for you," He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a band of black with a silver embellishment on it. The embellishment was a silver plate with an "S" elegantly engraved in it. "You're to wear this every day all the time from now on. It's a symbol. Every one who is significant will know what it means, that you're one of mine. It's completely inconspicuous. In fact, I heard monogrammed necklaces were popular nowadays with girls your age in America."

"What's this for Master?" Lynx took the necklace and put it on. It fit kind of like a choker necklace, that or a collar. How nice; a collar for his new cat.

"We're going to Egypt,"

"What for, Master?" Lynx turned around carefully as to not upset the computer in her lap.

"You're going to meet one of my superiors, Irina Derevko. She seems interested in you, especially after she heard what you did to Mr. Latyner. She was most pleased with that. You should be proud," Sark watched Lynx get up and move in a daze around the chamber; "most beginning associates don't even get to actually meet Irina for about five to six years. They go through contacts, like me. You get to meet her after two days ,"

"Where are we going? Giza? Memphis?" Lynx sat down on the bed.

"The capital, Cairo, actually," Sark studied her. "But we need to pick up a few things in town before we leave,"

Lynx was now all business, "Like what, Master? Weapons? Disguises? Tools? Transport?"

Sark gave a little chuckle, "No actually," He pulled a small card of plastic out of his pocket and handed it to Lynx. "Clothes,"

* * *

Vaughn stared at the screen in hypnosis. Since Sydney's distress over hearing about Project Lifetime, Michael Vaughn had made a personal vow to find out everything about the project. However, even Weiss had to admit spending five straight hours researching on a computer was a little too far.

"I know you want her to feel better about the whole thing," The husky agent said as he gave his friend his fifth cup of coffee. "But I feel a good bouquet of roses says 'I love you' more than sleepy eyes,"

"And your girlfriend is where, Weiss?" Vaughn was understandably a little cranky.

"I'm just saying that long, hard hours at work may not be the best way to do things," Weiss sat down. "You don't want her to worry you're getting too tired,"

"Uh, huh," Vaughn stared intently at his screen. He was only half listening to his friend. "Yeah,"

"You know, I knew this girl once. Always nagging about how I was never there because I was working," Weiss kept going on and on.

_There! Yes, a hit! _"Thank God," Vaughn sprang up from his office chair and ran after the form of Jack Bristow.

"No one listens to me anymore," Weiss took a sip from his own coffee.

"Jack, Jack I need to talk to you," Vaughn struggled at catch his breath as he followed the Senior Officer. 

"Sure," Jack gave Vaughn a quick glance. He'd decided to at least be civil with his daughter's fiancé. "What is it?"

"We really should talk somewhere more secluded," Vaughn led Jack over to a quieter alcove. He took a deep breath and let it out quickly. "Now, this may be a bit awkward,"

"Agent Vaughn, if this conversation is not work-related or appropriate, I suggest it not be held here," Jack turned to go, but Vaughn wasn't about to let him go.

"Jack, wait! It's about Project Lifetime!" Vaughn watched as Jack turned around, and looked at Vaughn peculiarly. He walked back and stared at Vaughn in shock.

"What do you know about Project Lifetime?" Jack asked.

"That's what I was going to ask you," Vaughn said. "I had interrogated a witness, and she had mentioned the project. Intrigued, I researched it further. Even more interesting, I found your name attached to it."

Jack shifted uncomfortably, "I might have provided assistance at one point,"

"Jack, I know you were the main director of Project Lifetime. It was in the file," Vaughn said with conviction. 

"The project ended last year. I was only director for the initial set-up of four years," Jack regained his confidence. "Is that it?"

"No," Vaughn took another deep breath. "The project was completed. At least fifty kids are out there with the ability to do who knows what. I need to know what the syllabus was for Project Lifetime."

"Agent Vaughn, even though you are going to be marrying my daughter," Jack glared. "That does not give you the right to order me around. You do not need to know anymore than you do now. This isn't even declassified Intel."

"Jack, I," Vaughn tried to get him to talk more.

Jack cut him off, "Never ask me about this at work again Agent Vaughn,"

* * *

"It's too short!" Lynx complained of her newly shorn, shoulder-length hair. Her master, her and nearly five of Sark's guards, one of which was the pilot, were flying on a jet to Cairo. She pulled at her new, black designer suit too. Lynx understood Sark wanted her to look good for Derevko, but did she have to be in a **suit**?

"Live with it Lynx," Sark called from the other side of the plane where he sat at his computer. "Be happy I didn't make you wear high heels,"

"I thank you for that, Master," Lynx came out of the jet's bathroom and retook her seat facing her master. "It would have been harder to serve you in heels. You think of everything,"

"Thank you," Sark didn't even look up; or notice the sarcasm.

"Master, may I ask a question?" Lynx received a warning nudge from the beefy guard she sat beside.

"If you wish," Sark was too into his computer, Lynx decided. "What is it?"

"Why does Irina Derevko want to see me? Why has she taken an interest in me? Is it because of what I did to that CIA agent?" Lynx received more than a warning nudge from the guard. Now she got a warning glare and kick that smarted from the guard opposite her. 

"Do not question Mr. Sark, **ever**," The guard said harshly.

"You forget your place," said another.

"Andrew, James, let her be. She at this point has more influence than you," Sark finally put away his laptop. He stood up and walked to stand in front of Lynx. "She has taken an interest in you because you killed one of the CIA's finest agents. He himself had killed and evaded twenty of Derevko's best contract killers. That you, a beginner, were able to do it so easily impressed her every much,"

"So, killing Agent Latyner himself was a test. If I passed, I lived and if I failed, I died," Lynx looked at him. "Some test. So, I impressed her?"

"Very much so. In fact, I shouldn't be telling you this, but she's going to give you a test of her own," Sark turned to sit own and resume using his laptop.

"Like what?" Lynx asked.

"Don't ask stupid questions," The beefy guard beside her reached into his jacket and pulled out a small handgun. "Mr. Sark told me to give you this,"

"Thank you, Master," Lynx took it, and held it in the dim light of the jet. She cocked it, and peered down the sight, giving the guard in front of her something to worry about

Sark shrugged slightly. "Just don't let Derevko know you have it,"

* * *

They had landed almost two hours and twelve rebukes from the guards later. Lynx was the first to step off of the jet, followed by two guards, then Sark who was followed by his three guards. They immediately boarded two waiting black SUVs that took off as soon as everyone was seated.

"Now, you should be aware of some etiquette when you meet Derevko," Sark told Lynx as the SUV roared down the sandy streets of Cairo. "Number one, never look anywhere but her eyes when you are speaking to her. If you dart around, she thinks you're planning something. Number two, never speak unless you are spoken to,"

"Good girls are seen, not heard," Lynx recited the old saying.

"Exactly. Number three," Sark got out of the SUV as it stopped at an old-looking house on the outskirts of the large Egyptian city; Lynx followed. Sark walked up to the door and knocked sharply. "Don't laugh, whisper, sigh, don't even breathe loudly,"

"The way you're instructing her, she might as well not breathe at all, Sark," Irina Derevko stood in the recently opened doorway. She looked exactly as her picture had been: dark, cool, and undeniably dangerous. "Come in, we have much to discuss,"

The party moved down the dark hallway. The walls were covered in hieroglyphic art and Romanesque vases and busts of philosophers adorned the hall on high pedestals. Lynx ignored her Master's bidding, and allowed her eyes to roam. She glanced at the open doors and saw different rooms. Everywhere were different wall paintings, and everywhere there were security cameras. 

They came to a sitting room, and Irina gestured for them to sit. She and Sark took two plushy armchairs and Lynx took a nearby wooden stool. The dark woman looked intently at the teenager, "Who are you?" she questioned.

"I am Lynx, associate of my Master, Sark," Lynx answered crisply.

"Where did you train?" Derevko questioned.

Lynx blinked slowly, "I can't remember,"

"She has memory loss," Sark explained.

"What is your purpose?" Derevko snapped her fingers, and a servant scurried forward to serve Sark and herself cups of steaming tea.

"To serve my Master to the utmost of my ability," Lynx wanted tea too. Oh, well.

"And how is it that you killed Agent Brandon Latyner in one try when twenty of my highly skilled people have tried, failed, and been killed?" Irina took a sip and looked intently at the girl.

"I don't know," Lynx shrugged. "I just got angry," Irina blinked at her and Lynx continued, "He wouldn't obey me, I got mad, so I killed him in the most horrible way I could think of,"

Derevko nodded, and then snapped her fingers again. This time, a young man entered the room. He was about twenty and was tall with short black hair. He walked over to Derevko's right side, and stood there. "This is Carson. He, like you, is a very capable human being. He has already proven his worth. Show them, Carson,"

"Yes, Ma'am," Carson retrieved a manila folder from a nearby shelf. He handed it to Sark.

"Euh, repulsive," Sark stared at the color photo that had been in the folder. He handed it to Lynx. The woman in the photo looked as if she'd gone through a paper shredder. Lynx swallowed hard, and then handed the folder back to the man.   

Derevko stood, then gestured for the others to do so as well, "You'll have a test, come with me," She told Lynx, and then proceeded to leave the room. She turned around when she noticed Sark was coming as well. "Carson, keep an eye on Mr. Sark. Sark, stay here,"

"Lynx," Sark beckoned the girl. "Don't trust anything she says. Just do it, and you'll be fine,"

"Lynx!" Derevko was getting impatient.

"I'm coming," Lynx followed the dark woman out of the room and down the hall. They went down a set of old, sandy stairs and finally stood in a dim, shadowy room lit only by an overhead light. The floor itself was just sand. It seemed as if the room had been carved out of the hard, sandy ground. The walls were painted in ancient hieroglyphic scenes of Osiris and Isis. 

"You have proven yourself to Sark, but not to me," Derevko crossed her arms and glared. "I will give you a true challenge this time." She disappeared into the shadows. Lynx heard a series of moans and scraping, and then saw Derevko reappear with a gagged, bound man who she threw to the ground. "This is French Secret Service Agent Jacque Aitiore. What life he has is not important. What is important is that he threatened the life of your Master. What do you say?"

A fire arose in Lynx. Someone had tried to harm Sark before? "He tried to kill my Master, and that is not acceptable,"

"Glad to hear it," Derevko smiled as she walked back up the stairs, leaving Lynx staring at the struggling French man with contempt. "Have fun,"

* * *

Sydney stared at the war in font of her. A fierce battle raged between her opponent and herself. Her opponent was swift, intelligent, and cunning. Even she did not know who would win at this point. But, Sydney had never lost, how could she now? Her opponent finally made his final move. He'd cornered her, and he knew his victory as he smiled at her. Vaughn breathed a sigh, and looked at Sydney again, "Checkmate," he said.

"I still think you cheated," she laughed as Vaughn knocked over her king with his finger.

"Well, maybe it was just your time," he said, smiling a secret smile.

"What?" Sydney smiled back and laughed again. "What is it now?"

"I have a special present I would like to give you," Vaughn reached behind their couch (Sydney had moved in with him after the incident with Allison Doran at her old place), and came up with a pale blue box tied with white ribbon.

"Jewelry?" Sydney questioned as she opened her package.

Vaughn shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not," 

Sydney opened the box and removed a small ring box. She carefully opened the lid and gasped at what she saw. It was a diamond and silver necklace that rivaled the one Sydney had exclaimed over a few weeks ago as they had window-shopped. The clasp held the twisted silver wire that held the diamonds. It was exquisite and beautiful. "Thank you so much!" She leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I thought you could wear it for our wedding. It would look absolutely perfect," Vaughn pulled her into his lap and smiled. "Just like you," 

Sydney smiled even broader, "Thank you,"

"Now let's make this a real thank you," Vaughn reached up, and turned the lamp light off.

* * *

"What is taking so long?" Sark paced in Derevko's living room.

"Well, Mistress did take her to kill someone," Carson lounged like a big cat on a sofa. 

"What?" Sark shouted, alarmed. "What did you say?"

"Hey, sir, easy. Derevko's giving her a test to kill someone. I'm sure it'll be over in a minute," Carson put his hands under his head. "Hey, she even gave her the French guy who tried to kill you. Man, I would have loved to take a shot at him,"

Sark marched over to Carson and pulled him straight up off the couch. Carson couldn't believe it when Sark pushed him up against the sandy wall. "If anything happens to her, or causes her reason to become distressed, you will personally feel it,"

"Mistress was right, you are very good at intimidation," Carson smiled at his little joke. 

Sark didn't get it, "I swear to you, if-"

"Sark, remove him from the wall," Derevko had returned with Lynx. Sark couldn't see anything different about her appearance; she'd managed to keep her suit clean. Then, he noticed her hands, which were literally dyed red with human blood. Her blank face stared mutely ahead. Sark noticed her hair was a bit red tinged as well. "Well, Mr. Sark this young lady has proven herself beyond belief tonight. When I returned, she'd not only turned Mr. Aitoire into something inhuman, but she managed to give the room a pretty paint job, didn't you, Lynx?"

"Yes, Mistress Derevko," Lynx intoned.

"Good, now go clean yourself up," Derevko gestured for a guard. "Joseph, show her to the bathroom,"

"Yes, ma'am. Come alone you," the guard took her by the arm and led her from the room.

"Well done, Mr. Sark," Derevko smiled. "You certainly picked her well. She's a true asset; almost as good as you. I have it in mind to make her a full associate,"

"Irina, I don't think that-" Sark mumbled.

"Then don't" Derevko made to leave the room. "Come along Carson. You have a little mess to clean up downstairs,"

"Aw, Mistress do I have to?" Carson whined as he left the room.

"Lynx, what can I do?" Sark mumbled as he sank back into a chair.  

* * *

A thousand colors passed before her eyes. Lynx happily sat in what she knew to be her room, playing with her dolls. The curly haired boy was there too; only he sat on her bed, reading a book. Lynx smiled and asked him if he wanted to play with her.

"Why on earth would I want to do that?" The boy said, annoyed, though he soon joined her and pretended to be all the male voices.

Her mother entered the room then, and smiled at the to playing children. Soon, a person Lynx knew to be her father entered the room, and put his hand on her mother's shoulder as he smiled at them as well. 

"Momma! Poppa!" Lynx jumped up and ran over to her father.

"That's my little girl," Her father's face was blurred as well, even as Lynx was only a few inches away as he held her.

Then, gunshots erupted into the room. Lynx fell as her father let go of her. When she got up, she looked around. With screams of fear and misery, Lynx saw that all her family was dead.  

"Ah!" The real Lynx jerked out of sleep and she looked bleary eyed around her Master's bedroom from her station at the door. She'd fallen asleep while standing guard. This was most unbecoming.

"Lynx, what is it?" Sark rolled over and asked while he kept his eyes shut.

"Nothing," Lynx swallowed, "Just a rat,"

"Bloody girls," Sark said sleepily.  "Always afraid of everything,"

Lynx sighed and slowly, and against her will, dropped off to sleep again.

AUTHOR'S NOTE- Hello all! I meant to finish the chapter two days ago, but the creative juices just weren't going. Also, I got a major creative boost from tonight's episode of ALIAS (2-15-04). In this episode I finally found out what Sark's real name is! It was really subtle, but it was still there! I feel so great now! After two years of wondering what my fav character's name was! Now I know, and I love it!

Next episode- it jumps ahead about two months. Sark and Lynx are back in England, Sydney goes on another fun-filled mission, and Vaughn keeps up his research on Project Lifetime. The fun never ends! Lord am I tired.

Hugs and Kisses, 

Tsuri     


	4. Indulgences

**Chapter 4- Indulgences**

Location- Wales, England

Date- October 3, 2003

It had been almost two months since he had last seen her. After Lynx and Sark had left Cairo, Carson had wanted to know more about the young woman. She captivated him. For example, how had she found Sark? Why did she contact him and not Derevko? _She'll answer my questions_, Carson thought. _Right after I finish this stupid hike_. Carson had broken into Sark's grounds from the front door. He simply walked up the winding, white gravel path from the gate, and was now about to the manor. Either Lynx knew he was here and didn't care, or she wasn't as adept as Sark praised her to be. Carson preferred the first option.

"Hello," he smiled at the guard stationed at the manor door.

"Mr. Sark has been expecting you," the guard opened the door slowly to allow Carson to enter.

"Thank you," Carson said as the door slammed shut behind him and he was left alone in the dim hallway. Carson has been to Greenshire Hall (the official name of Sark's manor) before and, knowing Sark, the man was most likely on his computer in a study; usually the one in the old keep. There was no way in hell Sark would let him in there. Sark's dislike for the young man was evident, and Carson was sure the Englishman would trigger the keep's alarm just to kill him. Keeping this in mind, Carson decided to look in the tower.

Surprisingly, Sark was in the tower. He stood with his back turned to the door, staring out the window. He seemed to be in deep thought, and only turned around when Carson had slammed the door shut.

"What," asked Sark, who had jumped, "are **you** doing here?"

"Just looking for Lynx," Carson looked around the room. Then, deciding to make polite conversation, he said, "So, is this paint job-"

"Lynx. What do you with her?" Sark asked, suspicious.

"To talk. Oh, and Derevko wants her and me to go to Mexico on a short trip," Carson said.

Sark frowned, "Why didn't Derevko contact me herself about this?"

Carson shrugged, "Couldn't be bothered, I suppose. Now, Mademoiselle Lynx?"

"Lynx isn't here. I sent her off on holiday a few weeks ago," Sark went back to his window. "She's in Moscow,"

"What on earth is she doing there?" Carson was puzzled. This wasn't like Sark to send his best and brightest off on vacation at a moments notice.

Sark was the one who shrugged this time, "Don't know. But this time of year, she's most likely ice-skating. Good day Mr. Carson,"

Just then, the door was opened by one of the butlers of the house, "Excuse me, sir, but young Mistress Lynx is back from Russia,"

"Hey, Master!" Lynx called as she gave the butler her two very large, very heavy bags. "Moscow was great! I went ice-skating, skiing, snowboarding, and," Lynx did a double take, "what's he doing here?"

"Lynx! How are you?" Carson came over and shook her hand vigorously. "I heard you recently returned from Russia."

"Uh, yeah," Lynx walked past him and stood in front of Sark. "Master, what's he doing here?"

Sark breathed in heavily, "Derevko wants you and Carson to go to Mexico for a trip. At least that's what **he** says," Sark gave Carson a calculating look.

"Yes," Carson was now all business. "We gave received information that a computer chip with exclusive translated Rembaldi articles has surfaced and is in the possession of an American Army official. This official, General Marcus Watson, is currently vacationing in Cancun, Mexico. Derevko has received orders from Sloane for Lynx and I to go and commandeer this chip."

"Sloane knows about me?" Lynx was shocked that the head of their operations knew about her.

"Of course. Ever since your trip last month in Barcelona, Sloane has held a particular interest in you," Carson continued, "In fact, he requested you personally. Our cover will be a young, newlywed couple, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick and Heather Graham, on our honeymoon. We are to infiltrate General Watson's security around the chip and obtain it by any means necessary. I'm sorry to tell you this Lynx, what with just getting back, but we leave this afternoon,"

"Okay," Lynx was calculating; chewing her lip. "Good,"

Sark stepped up, "Mr. Carson, please leave this room so that I may talk to my associate alone,"

"As you wish," Carson turned away and walked towards the door. "I'll be in the pool. See you, Lynx!" he called as he shut the door.

"Lynx," Sark said seriously. "I want you to bring that chip to me first before it goes to Derevko and then to Sloane. This just doesn't add up,"

"Master, are you sure," Lynx asked. "What's wrong?"

"Sloane already has the Rembaldi documents, and he knows the code by heart. It is possible that newer manuscripts could turn up, but we already have Ildire. There's nothing else now except the prophecy," Sark looked down quickly. "I don't trust Carson at all,"

"Master, is it not also possible for the new documents to hold the answer to the prophecy? A name or birthday could be in there. And Ildire has never been put to work. Is it possible that secret is there as well?" Lynx pondered.

Sark looked up, his eyes big, "Yes, the answers could be there. Even still, Lynx, I want that chip. I don't care how or what you do to get it. Just make sure it goes to me,"

Lynx smiled. Her master was so good at going against his superiors, "Yes, sir," 

* * *

Location- Los Angeles

Date- October 3, 2003

"Sydney, your planner wants to know, blue bridesmaids dresses or lilac?" Sydney Bristow's young intern assistant, Marcia, asked as she followed Sydney to the meeting room while on a cell phone and head set.

"Lilac, the ones with the strapless tops," Sydney smiled as she heard the girl repeat this on the phone. The wedding was only six months until her marriage to Vaughn and her excitement was growing everyday.

"When will you be available for your gown fitting?" The girl asked, as she got out a palm organizer, ready to fill in a date and time.

"I think I could go today, if that's alright with my boss," Sydney answered as she sat down in her chair. Her assistant sat down to her left.

"Sorry, Syd, you'll be out of town," Dixon told her as he walked into the room. Jack followed and sat down opposite her at the table. Dixon waited for every thing and every one in the room, including Vaughn and Marshall, to settle down before he continued. "We have Intel that a certain chip is in danger of falling into the hands of our enemies, namely Irina Derevko. We don't know why, but the chip's keeper, General Marcus Watson, has contacted us from Cancun and has expressed his concern for the chip's safety. Due to this chip's importance, I'm asking Sydney Bristow to go to Mexico and retrieve it herself." 

"What exactly is on the chip?" Vaughn asked.

"A complete translation into English of a new Rembaldi manuscript retrieved from Chile by an agent called Brandon Latyner. This manuscript is so new, no one has ever read what is on it," Dixon answered. "You can all guess the importance of this chip,"

There were nods all around the table. Sydney finally spoke up after a period of silence, "Who will be trying to take the chip?"

Dixon sighed, "This is one thing we don't know. Derevko and Sloane will probably send some of their best associates to retrieve it, but there is no way in knowing what kind of people you may face,"

Sydney nodded, "Okay, I'll go,"

"Wait a minute," Vaughn interjected. "There is no way I'm going to let her go alone,"

Jack agreed, "I concur. If we knew the enemy, it would be different. But, opponents you don't even know are a whole new scenario. Sydney, you are not goiung,"

"Dad, yes I am. I can do this. And, Michael, I'll be fine. I've taken on worse before," Sydney defended herself.

"Agent Bristow is going, end of story," Dixon said with a tone of finality. "Marshall?"

"Right, um," Marshall stuttered as he patted down his jacket, searching for something. He half smiled, "Um, heh, just a moment," His face dropped as he reached inside his suit and finally found what he was looking for:  a silver make-up compact. "Here it is, now the chip is highly important. So, to insure that it's returned here safely, voila!" He flipped the compact open. Inside were a mirror and a make-up pad.

"It's a mirror," Jack said incredulously.

"So it seems, but" Marshall said, pulling at a minuscule tab and lifting up the mirror to reveal a sort of small, fitted, empty space, "when you lift the mirror, a nice little spot that will fit the chip perfectly." He refitted the mirror and snapped the compact shut, right on his fingers. "Ouch, that kind of hurts,"   

* * *

Location- Cancun, Mexico

"Have a nice stay, Mr. and Mrs. Graham," The check-in attendant said cheerfully. "Enjoy your honeymoon,"

"We sure will," Lynx decided Carson was playing his part a little too well, especially when he turned her face up to his and kissed her full on the mouth. "My wife and I will enjoy your resort immensely, if we ever leave the room that is,"

"Now honey, we don't want to keep that suite waiting," Lynx said with a giggle as she led Carson off toward the elevators with their bags. "What was that for?" she asked crossly as they stood alone in the elevator, going up to their room.

"Had to make it look natural," Carson shrugged. "Besides, all work and no play would make you a very dull girl,"

Lynx felt a smile form at the corners of her mouth, "Yes, but we're hear to work, not to play," She promptly took off the loose shirt she had on, revealing a tight black tank top. She took off her high-heeled shoes and laced up her combat boots from one of the suitcases Carson had opened. She was completely dressed in black from head to toe when she looked over and was blessed with the sight of Carson changing his shirt. _Not bad at all_, she thought as she quickly diverted her eyes. "Ready?" she asked when Carson had finally laced up his own boots.

"Let's go," Carson said as the door slid open. They dropped the bags off at the room before proceeding down the hall towards the general's room. When they got to the plain white, gold numbered door, Lynx took out what looked like a credit card and slid it into the door key slot. The light immediately turned green, and she quietly opened the door.

"How on earth did you do that?" Carson whispered in her ear.

"Universal key. It can open any door, any where," Lynx answered as she crept into the room. Carson followed closely.

"Yes, yes it's all good," A man's voice said. He appeared to be talking on a cell phone. "Yes, and order a dozen roses from the florist. Yes, they're Eileen's favorite,"

Lynx and Carson stood up as they crept down the short hall that separated the bathroom from the living area of the suite. They quietly removed the handguns they'd stored in the pockets of their cargo pants. They turned the corner and stood facing the army general. The tall man turned around and a look of shock and horror filled his face as he stared at the two black figures. 

"General Watson, surprised to see us?" Carson asked mockingly. 

"You have something we want. Something invaluable to us," Lynx said in a monotone. She slowly walked toward him; he backed up. "My Master wants the Rembaldi chip, and I must have it,"

* * *

The scene twenty minutes later was totally different. Carson was kneeling on the bed in the room; the general was under him. Carson's arms flexed as he choked the man to death.

"I will repeat," Lynx was unpulsed with the man's gasps and pleading, "tell me where the chip is,"

"Never," the man choked out, "I will never betray my country,"

"Then Eileen will suffer, General," Lynx leaned over, her hair slightly brushing Carson head. "We heard you order flowers for her. You must really love her. You don't want her to suffer do you?"

The big man began to sob now as he shook his head, "My watch, it's in the face of my watch," Lynx stooped over and retrieved the band. She took the glass face off and removed the tiny chip from its niche over the gears. She undid the safety of her gun as Carson stood up and took the chip and put it in a hidden strip of his boxers that showed a bit from under his pants. "Thanks, it was nice doing business with you," And with that, Lynx shot him in the head. "Let's go," she told Carson.

"Hey, you're brilliant," Carson caught her arm as she turned to go.

"It's just a job," Lynx looked at him. "Please, release me,"

"Why?" Carson slowly was coming closer.

"Because small spaces make me uncomfortable," Lynx tried to twist out of his iron-like grip. "And I'm a little uncomfortable right now,"

"Don't be," Carson pulled her closer and kissed her on the lips for real this time.

"Playboy, we can't," Lynx said his call sign as he went down for her neck. "My Master will kill me,"

"No, he won't" Carson pecked her lips. "I won't let him, because you're just like me," He kissed her neck again and again.

"What do you mean?" Lynx didn't care anymore.

"I can't remember my previous life either," Carson whispered in her ear.

From behind them, they heard a gun click. "Drop the weapon," ordered a female voice. They turned around and saw a tall, brunette woman about three meters away. She looked mad. "Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head," she ordered.

"Make me," Lynx threw down her weapon, right at the strange woman. The woman ducked, and Lynx and Carson split and flanked her now from both sides.

"In the name of the United States, I herby-" Sydney Bristow began.

"Go to hell," Carson twisted his lithe body and aimed a kick at the agent's head. The agent ducked and promptly kicked the young man in the stomach. Carson went down with a groan.

"Hey!" Lynx called. "Pick on someone your own size!"

"Kitty Kat, no!" Carson groaned from the floor, but Lynx didn't listen. She was already locked in a vicious battle with the CIA agent.

Sydney blocked a few of her punches, and the girl blocked Sydney's savage kicks and chops. They were very equally matched. Eventually, Lynx had backed Sydney into a corner and pushed the sole of her boot into Sydney's neck. Lynx stared at her gasping victim, perplexed by what she saw. There was something subtly familiar about the woman, but Lynx couldn't find it. "Good bye, and good night," Lynx said as she kicked Sydney across the face. The woman fell down the wall, and rested unconscious on the floor.

"Let's go," Carson said huskily as he led Lynx out of the room while holding his bruised stomach.

They raced down the hall to their room and locked the door. "She'd never suspect us of staying in the same hotel," Carson said as he paced the room, "let alone know what room we're in,"

"Yes, we'll simply wait until tomorrow morning to leave," Lynx was trying to figure out how she was going to get the chip out of Carson's pants and into the case Sark had given her to put on her collar necklace.

"Ah," Carson's face fell as he grasped his abdomen and fell on the bed.

"Carson, what's wrong?" Lynx rushed over just as Carson took his hands and cracked his ribs.

"Just popped out of place when that bitch kicked me," Carson leaned back and closed his eyes.

Lynx suddenly had an idea. She knew her Master wouldn't like it, but he said he didn't care how she got the chip. It would be a big step, but she'd complete her mission to the best of her ability; the very best. Lynx slowly lay down next to a still cringing Carson, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine soon enough," Carson still had his eyes shut. "Hey, Lynx, about what I said earlier, about my memory-" 

"We'll talk about that later," Lynx leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Carson opened his eyes and smiled slightly, "What are you doing?"

"We're supposed to be on honeymoon, aren't we?"

"Yeah . . ."

"So let's act like it," Lynx said as she turned off the light.

* * *

The sunlight lit up the bedroom early the next morning. Lynx stirred in her sleep and yawned slightly. She moved very little under the weight of Carson's arm as she rummaged around on the floor and finally found what she was looking for:  his boxers. She'd felt the chip in the elastic band the night before. She slowly slipped them on, careful not to wake-up Carson with her movements. Lynx inched out from under Carson's arm and tumbled out of the bed. She was ready to leave within five minutes. "You're great, even cute," Lynx told Carson's sleeping form. "Thanks for last night. It was a real pleasure to work with you," She turned to go and walked out of the room without another sound.

"You too," Carson mumbled, and then turned over smiling in his sleep.

* * *

Location- Wales, England

Lynx threw the pair of boxers onto Sark's desk. The old keep never looked so good, she decided. _Man, I'm glad to be back. _"What on God's green earth are you doing with my underwear?" He asked her with a shocked voice as he held them up.

"Those are Carson's," Lynx sat down on Sark's desk. "And thanks for the mental picture."

"That is repulsive!" Sark threw them at her.

"Relax, Master. The chip's in the elastic," Lynx found the secret opening and took out the small computer chip. She handed it to her Master with a smile.

"How did you do this?" Sark asked as he fitted the chip into a disk, preparing to bring up the files on his computer.

"Trust me, you don't want to know,"

"I have someone special who wants to meet you," Sark said.

Lynx was perplexed, "Who? Another associate?"

"No," came a calm, low voice from behind her. "Me," Arven Sloane stepped out from the maiden's portrait. He wore a light grey suit and a slight smile on his face. "Hello, you must be Lynx. I'm Arven Sloane, and it's very nice to meet you,"

"The, the pleasure's all mine?" Lynx looked at her master, then at Sloane. "Um, pardon my rudeness, but what are you doing here?"

Sloane half chuckled, "I'm here to make you a full operative, of course,"

* * *

"I'm sorry, Michael. I just was out numbered," Sydney's shoulder's slumped. "I failed,"

"Syd, it will be alright," Vaughn comforted her as they walked into the office together. 

"But the chip was of high importance! And I lost it to a couple of petty thieves!" She was almost crying; Sydney did not take defeat well.

"Agent Bristow!" Marcia ran up. "The director and your father want to speak to you in private right away!"

"Great, now I'm in trouble," Sydney mumbled.

Vaughn tried to cheer her up, "Hey, what's he going to do, ground you?"

Twenty minutes later, Sydney sat in a single chair facing Dixon and Jack. They were questioning her on her recent mission, especially about her two opponents.

"What did the woman look like?" Dixon questioned.

Sydney took a deep breath, "She was more like a girl than a woman. Very young, maybe eighteen or nineteen. She had short brown hair, green eyes, and she was as tall as me. She was a bit muscular and skinny,"

Jack stepped in, "Did she or the man give you their names?"

"No, they never said their real names. They used their call signs,"

Dixon typed a bit n his computer before asking, "What were they?"

Sydney thought back, "The girl's name was 'Kitty Kat'. The man's was "Playboy' like the magazine,"

"Describe the man again for us," Jack crossed his arms.

"He had black hair, and I think his eyes were either blue or gray. He was very tall and seemed to be about twenty. His body type was kind of like Michael's. I can't remember much else," Sydney shook her head in disgust. 

"Thanks, that's all we'll need," Jack smiled at his daughter as she left Dixon's office.

"Jack, it sounds like those people were who you thought they were," Dixon said as Jack made to leave the room.

Jack turned around slightly, "Do me a favor, don't tell Vaughn about them. It would just bring up too much,"

Dixon creased his eyebrows, "Like what?"

Jack shook his head, "Just a little investigation he did back in July,"

* * *

"I don't care, it still hurts! Why on earth did I have to get this thing anyway?" Lynx looked down at the small black burn on her right hip:  the symbol of Rembaldi. Sloane had burned it into her side, and now he was nonchalantly moving about the room, looking at Sark's private library.

Sark applied some salve to the still flaming burn mark, "It's a sort of initiation. I have one, so does Irina and Sloane. You're on the same level as me now, and, since you're still so young, you should be very honored and proud. You'll have access to more contacts and associates now. You might even be allowed one of your own."

"But, I have no one to serve now," Lynx dropped her eyes to the floor. "I have no purpose,"

"Of course you do. You serve Sloane, and that's what should really matter,"

"But, what about you? Who will serve and protect you?"

"I'll have a guard take up your position. You'll still continue to live here, if you desire of course. If not, Sloane said he'd provide you with your own estate. He has a nice Tuscan villa he hasn't used in almost a year," Sark nodded to the man as he looked through Sark's books. He taped a wad of gauze over the burn. "Think of it this way, you won't have to stay up all night anymore listening to me snore,"

"Whatever, Master," Lynx went for the portrait of the maiden, wanting to get back to her own room.

"You don't have to call me that anymore, you know," Sark called.

"No, but I want to," Lynx ducked as she went down the dank passage into the dark.

"She doesn't seem happy, does she?" Sark asked as he sat down behind his desk.

"I think she liked having a definite purpose. Now, she just has to sit around and wait for orders," Sloane shrugged.

"I don't think she wanted to be a full operative," Sark glanced at Sloane. "Why did you do it?"

"You know just as well as I do,"

"I know what?"

Sloane looked in the bright flames burning in the fireplace in back of Sark's desk, "That she's the Chosen One,"

AUTHOR'S NOTE- La la la lah! Chap 4 is done! Yeah! I know I didn't have Vaughn investigation in here, but I'm saving that for further on. Next chapter- find out what was on the Rembaldi chip. Sark and Lynx go on their first mission together. Carson comes back for his underwear . . .and Lynx. Sydney and her crew aren't featured much.

Character Bio- Lynx

Name:  Lynx

Call Sign: Kitty Kat

Birthday:  December 13, 1985

Age:  17

Height:  5'8"

Weight:  130 lb.

Eye: Green

Hair: Brown and shoulder length

Blood Type: B+

Characteristics: Tattoo of Rembaldi sign on her right hip, double jointed, berserker blood 

Parents:  Unknown

Special Skills: Stealth, numerous martial arts, theatre arts, death artist, musician, high intelligence

Education:  Unknown

Personal Connections:  Sark; Derevko, Irina; Sloane, Arven; Holloway, Carson

Personality- suffers from amnesia. Strives for purpose and service to a superior. Likes to sing and will occasionally play a guitar if she wants to (hobby). Loves to serve her masters Sark and Sloane. Is very intelligent and strong for a girl her age. Tries to stay a professional lady, but has trouble with it sometimes when her emotions interfere. Can't control her actions or emotions when she gets angry, hence her unique killing style.  

Note- each chapter would equal about two episodes.

Buh Bye!

Tsuri 


	5. Jewelry and Poetry

**Chapter 5- Jewelry and Poetry**

Location- Greenshire Hall, Wales, England

"How did you know she's the Chosen One?" Sark had thought he was the only one who had known.

"Come now, Mr. Sark, it's written all over her face," Sloane smiled. "That, and you seem to have formed a personal attachment to her, which is appropriate with you being the only living direct descendant of Rembaldi,"

"You know something," Sark's eyes grew bigger. "You know what's on the chip?"

Sloane shook his head, "No, but let's find out,"

They both stood over Sark's computer, waiting for the files to load. Finally, a word document popped onto the screen. It read:

There is one last artifact, an amulet, which only my Chosen One can find.  This is the one that will rejuvenate Ildire, my greatest work.  Until the amulet is found, my Chosen shall never know her self what is important. In a column tall between the fingers' diamond, the bells will ring when the amulet is found. This is the church; this is the steeple, the bell ringer used to scare all the people.  

Having come in contact with blood of my blood, the woman shall make her name known.  Drenched in darkness, and soaked in red pain, she will rise in stature, becoming more and more equal to her own self.  She shall prosper yet will never grow; see but never live.  This woman, born on an unlucky day in the last moon, shall bring about the Second Coming. Not in the form of another, but by her own actions and the actions of Her Chosen One.

And thus ends the writings of Milo Rembaldi, 1557.

"The blood of his blood can only be you, Mr. Sark," Sloane said, watching for the young man's reaction.

"This is so unclear, unlike the others where the meaning was evident," Sark shook his head. 

"Actually try to figure it out. Use information you already know to find out what you don't" Sloane coaxed, as if teaching him.

"The young woman can only be Lynx now," Sark decided. " 'Drenched in darkness' has to be her amnesia. 'Soaked in red pain' that could be the second night she was here when she-"

"She painted Irina's cellar red, or so I heard," Sloane smiled. "You have to tell her about her destiny,"

"Me? Why?" Sark asked.

"Because, I feel she has a bit of a soft spot where you're concerned," Sloane turned back to Sark's bookcases.

Sark heaved a sigh, "Alright, but she probably won't listen to me," He walked over to his painting, knocked, then walked down the passage.

"On the contrary, I think she will," Sloane smiled as he watched Sark's back disappear.

* * *

"Marcia, I need you to take a memo," Sydney called to her assistant.

"Yes, Ma'am," The intern hustled over from where she'd been talking with Weiss. "What do you want it to read?"

"Tell Director Dixon that I will be taking a short vacation. Tell him I haven't been feeling well, and have taken time off to help plan my wedding," Sydney dictated.

Marcia looked up from her note taking, "Can you do that?"

Sydney glanced quickly at her and smiled, "I don't think he'll miss me. He has Michael and Weiss and all the others to go save the country,"

"But, Miss Bristow," called Marcia, "I still have my internship!"

"Oh, well, Weiss could use an assistant. I'll have you transferred to him," Sydney gathered her coat and bag. "See you, Marcia," she called as she walked out of the office.

"Hey! Marcia!" Vaughn ran up. "Where's Sydney?"

"Agent Bristow just left, Agent Vaughn," Marcia told him. "She's taking a leave of absence,"

Vaughn sighed, "Ah, well, maybe it's all for the best,"

Marcia was confused, "What's for the best?" 

"Nothing, go file something Marcia," Vaughn told her. She walked off in a huff just as Weiss walked up.

"What'd you do to the intern?" he asked.

Vaughn sighed, "Nothing,"

Weiss sensed something, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I said nothing," Vaughn made to leave.

"Oh, come on. I'm your best friend. You can tell me," Weiss coaxed.

Vaughn looked around, "Alright. You remember that investigation I did back in July?" 

"Yeah, Lifetime, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, well, it's back on. I got a hold of the documents from Sydney's interrogation of what happened in Cancun. What really interested me were the two operatives.  She said they seemed to be only in their late teens and were very skilled in combat and strategy. Some of their moves were Kav Maga, and others were Kung Fu. They also threw their weapons instead of setting them on the floor."

"Sounds like they received extensive training," Weiss commented.

"That's what's strange. Their moves were CIA moves. I myself used the gun toss the girl used not to long ago in Japan," Vaughn looked weary. "I think they were some of the children from Project Lifetime,"

"What a minute, how can you be sure?" Weiss did not believe it. "If they were, they'd only be about sixteen, not twenty. And how do you know that they just know those moves? That gun throw could have just been reflexes."

"True, but I still think that they're from the project," Vaughn insisted. "It makes more sense then just coincidence,"

"Whatever, say," Weiss glanced around then smiled, "Did I just hear Sydney reassigned the new intern to me?"

Vaughn smiled and shook his head. Weiss always knew how to break the ice, "Yeah, she did,"

"Really?" Weiss raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Please, thank her for me,"

* * *

Sark stepped gingerly out of the wardrobe, careful not to muss his suit on the dusty doors. Lynx sat in her chair by the window, reading another article from her electronic encyclopedia.  Sark approached her quietly and remained motionless behind her chair.

"What is it, Master?" Lynx asked.

"Lynx, I need to tell you something," Sark began. "It may seem to be a little, well, hard to hear, but if you're open-minded, I'm sure,"

"I already know, Master," Lynx said, staring out the window. "I wired your office and I heard everything. So, you think _I'm_ this Chosen One? Is that the reason you kept me around? Is that the only reason?"

"Lynx, I-"

"Master, it's my turn to talk," Lynx stood up and turned around. "Why didn't you tell me before? I think I ought to have known this! Were you just using me? Did you just say you could get my memory back so you'd have the key to Rembaldi?" Lynx's voice continued to rise. "I'm not some robot you can use and control! Master, just tell me now if you were using me. If you don't, I'll leave your service forever,"

Sark stepped back. This was not the reaction he expected. He regained his composer before saying, "I would have made you an associate even if you weren't Rembaldi's Chosen. You're a very skilled individual that anyone in this world would love to have. I was never using you, just having you work hard. Besides, you should be honored to be Rembaldi's Chosen. Two other women have been seen as her, but you're it,"

"Two others? Who are they?"

"One was the agent you met in Cancun, Agent Sydney Bristow. The other is Irina Derevko," Sark told her.

Lynx sat down in her chair and hugged her legs to her chest, "I don't know what to do. I know I have a purpose now, to find the amulet and complete Ildire, but I don't know _how_ or _why_. I feel so lost,"

Sark started to step forward, but caught himself, "The best thing to do would be to figure out Rembaldi's riddle. Do that, and we'll talk about a mission tomorrow morning,"

Just then, there was a harsh rap at the door. One of the old butlers entered the room, "Pardon me, Mistress Lynx, but there's a young man here who wouldn't go away unless he saw you,"

Carson bust in from behind the butler, "Lynx! Here you are! What on earth did you leave Cancun for?"

"Unlike you, Lynx knows how to act with decorum. She immediately returned here after completing her mission," Sark said crisply.

"Yeah, about that," Carson smiled wily, "Lynx, I need my underwear back. And the chip, I'll need that to deliver to Sloane,"

"He's here, and he's already seen the contents of the chip," Sark said, walking over to Lynx's bed. He grabbed Carson's pair of boxers and threw them at the man. "You have what you came for, now get out,"

"Not so fast, I didn't get everything I came for," Carson strode across the room and gave Lynx a kiss full on the lips. "I also came for her,"

Sark's eyes darkened. "Get out," he growled.

"Master, I need to speak with him," Lynx said, standing up again and staring at the ground. "Can you please leave?"

Sark looked uncertain, but headed for the door anyway. _She's pretty levelheaded. I'm sure she knows what she's doing. _"Alright, I'll leave," He still maintained his stoic glare as he closed the door.

"Carson, what are you," Lynx began, but was cut off by Carson's lips locking with hers. After a while, he backed up and gave her a hard look.

"You never even asked," Carson said, walking over to Lynx's bed. He sat down and began to remove his shoes, "I revealed something to you even Derevko didn't know, and you just go ahead and shut me up by sleeping with me,"

Lynx sighed heavily, "It's not like that. I had a duty to my Master to get the chip by any means necessary. Sleeping with you was just part of the deal,"

Carson leaned back, "So, I was just being used by you. Classic, just the way you say Sark used you to be the Chosen One,"

"It's not like that," Lynx sat down next to him.

"Then what is it like?" Carson grabbed her by the shoulders. "For two straight months I'd been consumed by you. I needed to talk, to see you. What happened may have been nothing to you, but it sure meant something to me. I just want you, that's all,"

Lynx was floored. Sure, she'd expected him to be a little P.O.ed about the whole thing, but she'd never expected him to confess something like this. After sitting for a while in silence, she sighed heavily. "I don't know what to say, except I really need you right now. Tonight has been quite a shocker," Lynx leaned her head on Carson's shoulder.

"Hey, I'm here," Carson seemed to have calmed down. He began stroking her face, "Tell me,"

"Later. Right now, I don't need to talk. I just need you,"

* * *

"Mr. Sark, have you figured out the riddle yet?" Sloane asked as the tall blond yawned his way into the manor's kitchen. 

Sark nodded, "Took all night. When I figured it out, I felt stupid that I didn't know sooner," He sat down at his kitchen island and started reading _The Times_.

Sloane looked at him, "And? What is it?"

"I first thought of a church or cathedral. Well, that narrowed it down to the millions. Then, I looked around my library for nearly half the night for a clue as to what the second part of the riddle could be. In a fit of rage, I threw a large volume to the floor, and succeeded in crushing my foot. But, when I looked down at the title of the book, it was all clear," Sark poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the counter.

"And?"

"Notre Dame. The bell ringer, what's-his-name, was a hunchback that the people feared and ridiculed," Sark said. "I've already arranged for Lynx and myself to go there later today," He got up and made for the stairs to fetch the girl.

"You may not want to disturb her now," Sloane said. "She's still with Carson,"

"Now, what would they still be talking about-" Sark paled even more, if that was possible. "You don't think?"

"How else do you think she got his boxers off him? Don't kill the boy, Sark!" Sloane called as the Englishman dashed quickly up the stairs.    

* * *

Once again, Lynx was the first to wake up. Only this time, she wasn't about to move. The room was very cold, but Carson wasn't, so she snuggled up closer to his chest. "Hmm," He awoke but kept his eyes closed. "You leaving again?" He asked sleepily.

"Not this time," Lynx slipped out from under his arm and sat up. Then, she leaned over and pounced on him.

"Oh, God I surrender!" Carson laughed as he rolled over and pinned her.

Lynx smiled, "Now, what's this about you not remembering anything?"

Carson's face fell a bit, "I went to Derevko about six months ago. Except for the month before that, I can't remember anything except my name, Carson Holloway.  Derevko found me wandering the streets of Rome where I'd woken up and been living as a pickpocket. She found it interesting when I was able to take her necklace, earrings, and half the contents of her purse before she caught me. Even after the chase she'd put me through and meeting Masenkov and Erickson, she still had me kill off a few federal agents just to see if I was trustworthy,"

"So, you're like me? Can't remember anything myself until about five months ago. I was luckier than you in finding work. I woke up in Ireland. I spent nearly a month working as entertainment in a pub,"

"Entertainment? You were a stripper?" Carson smiled then gave her a wily look, "Does Sark know about this?"

"No, and I wasn't a stripper," Lynx smiled. "I was a headliner. Sang drinking songs mostly. Occasionally a pop song, but the guys didn't like that,"

"And so you ended up here?" Carson leaned down and began kissing her neck. "Kitten, I lov-"

Just then the door to Lynx's room burst open. Sark's eyes were fiery, and there was an air about him that made Lynx suddenly scared of him. He strode over to the bed and threw Carson off of Lynx. "What in God's name are doing, touching her?" he growled through clenched teeth.

"Master!" Lynx sat up, covering herself with the bed sheet.

"Stay out of this, Lynx!" Sark yelled at her. He never had yelled at her before. "You, I ought to have you killed for this!"

"Hey, sir, what's the deal?" Carson held out his hands then smiled. "Jealous?" Carson got a fist in his mouth for the last remark.

Lynx reached into a drawer in her bedside table and pulled out a handgun. "Don't you touch him," Lynx growled at Sark, surprised by her on gull. "Leave him be!"

Sark stared at her with the deer-in-the-headlights look. He glanced at Carson then backed up. Carson stared at her gratefully and wiped a bit of blood that came out of his mouth.

"Now I'm going to take a shower, and I want the two of you to get along," Lynx said, backing up towards the adjoining bathroom door by the wardrobe, taking the bed sheet with her. "Or else!" She warned as she disappeared through the door. A few seconds later, the slight rush of running water sounded. 

"You like her, or something?' Carson said outright.

Sark turned to him, "I beg your pardon,"

"Quit being English for just a second and just be a guy," Carson said, searching for his pants (he'd slept in his boxers). "Do you like her or not?" He found them rolled in a ball under the bed.

"That's none of your business," Sark said stiffly.

"Oh, I get it. Even after almost three months, and you_ still_ haven't slept with her. Man, that's pathetic, even for you," Carson laughed as he buttoned his pants.

"What about you?" Sark countered. "Is she just your, as you Americans call it, flavor of the week?"

"Hell no. Lynx means more to me than anything. Even my duties to Derevko," Carson sighed and smiled. "She's wonderful,"

Sark grabbed him harshly by the arm, "You will never take her again, you understand? I forbid it."

"You can't order my feelings for your pet kitten to change," Carson glared right back at him.

Sark raised his eyebrows, "Watch me,"

* * *

"Where are we going?" Lynx asked Sark stiffly as she sat down in her seat on the jet.

Sark could tell she was angry with him. Dammit, and she'd just started to warm up to him. Sark swallowed and said, "Notre Dame Cathedral. The last Rembaldi artifact is there,"

"Fascinating," Lynx said nonchalantly as she flipped through a car magazine. "What is it?"

"An amulet, and only you can find it," Sark told her. "You have to cross your fingers like this," Sark showed her how he crossed his two index and middle fingers, forming a small diamond, "and the symbol of Rembaldi should appear where you focus your fingers."

"Great," Lynx sighed.

"Alright, I know you're angry. Tell me why," Sark flinched slightly at the glare he got from her. "You don't fancy him, do you?"

Lynx sighed, "Of course not. It's just I thought you acted like a real jerk and overreacted. What's the big deal?"

"You **slept **with him, that's a big deal!" Sark stood up and nearly bumped his head on the ceiling. "You slept with a man you had no feelings for. And, what's worse, he, he defiled you,"

"Master, that wasn't the first time I'd been with a man," Lynx said.

"That doesn't matter!" Sark sat back down. "He's ruined you, haven't you noticed?"

"If you're worried about the fact that I'm more emotional now, Carson has nothing to do with it," Lynx said, shifting uncomfortably. She looked up at him, "Why's it matter to you anyway?"

Sark blinked slowly and then gave a furtive glance to the guards. After a quick nod from their employer, they slouched slowly out of the cabin. Then, without warning, he pounced on Lynx, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her with passion.

"Master?" Lynx asked uncertainly as he peppered her neck with quick kisses.

"Ssshh, not now. Talk later," Sark told her before kissing her again. She stopped him by tossing her head to the side. He drew up and stared at her, "What's wrong?"

"Master, please, don't" Lynx begged.

"Why not?" Sark asked. "You slept with Carson, who you have no feelings for, twice. And yet, you beg for mercy from me. Why?"

"Because, I'm afraid," Lynx confessed.

"Of what?" He ran his fingers slowly around the contour of her jaw.

"That I might like you," Lynx looked up at him with sorrowful.

Sark's eyes softened "Don't be afraid. I'll never hurt you." He resumed kissing her, even feeling her stomach and back. Eventually, she seemed to relax. Her hands even came up to explore his chest and stomach.

"Lord and master," she said softly.

Sark smiled slightly, "Ah, that's lovely,"

* * *

"Why would I want an ice sculpture of a dragon? I'm not Chinese!" Sydney said into her cell phone to the decorator as she sat down at the small table of the wedding store. She and Vaughn were there to sample custom cake frosting.

"I like dragons," Vaughn commented from where he stood looking through a bridesmaids dress catalog, the only magazine in the store.

Sydney sighed, "Okay, one dragon and one swan ice sculpture," she hung up. "We could put the dragon by the sushi, I guess,"

"Syd," Vaughn walked over to her, sat down and stared at her intently. "Relax. You're going to break out in acne, or get a cold, or catch the flu if you keep being stressed out,"

The store door opened and Jack Bristow walked through the door. "Hey, Dad," Sydney got up and embraced her father.

"Syd, what's your father doing here?" Vaughn asked.

"I asked him to come," Sydney turned around. "Is that all right?"

Vaughn shrugged, "Sure, I was just wondering,"

"Good to see you, Michael," Jack reached out and shook Vaughn's hand.

"Okay, is everybody here?" Angelo Fredrik, Sydney's wedding planner came out of the back. "Oh, today we have the groom and the father of the bride here together! Wonderful! But, Sydney, I thought we would try on the dress before we sampled the frosting,"

"Oh, me and Jack can go and find something to talk about," Michael said, standing up.

"A groom who knows it's bad luck to see too much of the bride's dress before the wedding? Ms. Bristow, what a catch! You two go, and Sydney will try on the dress,"

Jack and Vaughn walked to the far end of the shop; near the table settings. "Jack, I need your input on something," Vaughn said.

"Sure, what is it?"

"I need to know about two certain persons involved with Project Lifetime," Vaughn said.

Jack's eyes darkened, "Agent Vaughn, I thought I said I didn't want to talk about this anymore,"

"No, you said not to ask you about it at work," Vaughn pointed out. "I just need to know if there was ever a black haired little boy and a brown haired girl enrolled in the project,"

"Vaughn, there were fifty children in that program, how should I remember just two?" Jack sighed.

Vaughn cast his eyes down at the floor and stared for a bit. Then, he looked up and asked, "Can you just get me a file of the children's profiles?"

"Why do you still keep at this?"

"Because it bothers Sydney, and I don't want her to be bothered," Vaughn said.

Jack considered, "All right. I'll get you the files from when they were first enrolled. I can't get their most recent ones, however."

Vaughn smiled, "The original files would be great,"

"I'll get them to you as soon as possible," Jack said just as his pager beeped. Vaughn's did too, and faraway in the back of the store they heard Sydney's go off as well. Vaughn looked at the number displayed:  it was Dixon's. Something was going down at the Agency.

"We got to go," Jack said with authority. "It must be serious if they're calling in Sydney even if she's on leave,"

Twenty minutes later, all three of them walked into the briefing room of the agency. As they took their respective seats, Dixon started the meeting. "We have information from one of our undercover informants that Sark and Sloane have seen the Rembaldi manuscripts, and are going after the last piece which holds the secret to Ildire,"

"What is this last piece?" Sydney asked.

"We don't know, and neither did the informant," Dixon said. "All he did know was that it was somewhere in Europe, and that the only one who can find it is Rembaldi's Chosen One."

"Well, that settles it," Vaughn said. "If Sydney's the only one who can find it, then we don't have anything to worry about,"

"That's the key, Agent Vaughn," Dixon said. "Sydney is not the Chosen One,"

"What?" Sydney asked, shocked.

"Sorry Agent Bristow, but according to the informant, this is Rembaldi's Chosen," Marshall brought up a picture on the big screen of the meeting room. It was a tall, sun glassed young woman. "The informant faxed us this picture of her this morning,"

"That's the girl who I met in Mexico!" Sydney exclaimed. "She works for Sark with the other man,"

"Yes, we know, but the problem is that's all we know about her," Dixon said. "She has not records anywhere, personal or federal. In fact, the only other thing we know about her is that her nickname's Kitty Kat,"

"So we have nothing," Vaughn said. "Great. So, do we know where in Europe the last piece is?"

"Yes, the last piece was mentioned in a riddle in the manuscript," Dixon said. "We had Marshall decipher it when we first apprehended it. Marshall?"

"Now, Rembaldi was a very tricky guy.  But, this last riddle was a fairly easy one to figure out. Its simplicity is what makes it hard," Marshall said, bringing a word document onto the large viewing screen. "The first part is obviously about a church.  The second part refers to Quase Modo, the legendary bell ringer of Notre Dame,"

"So they're going to Paris," Sydney nodded, "Then I am too,"

Dixon peered forward, "Agent Bristow, are you sure?"

Sydney looked at him with conviction, "I've never been more sure of anything,"

* * *

"So, where in this cathedral is this supposed to be?" Lynx asked.

"Don't know, but it has to be in a logical place," Sark told her. They were both all business now that they were back to work, the plane ride over almost forgotten.

"Would it possibly be in the molding or the ceiling?" Lynx crossed her fingers the way Sark had shown her and peered through them.

Sark shook his head, "Rembaldi's artifacts are always accessible. It's just a matter of finding them," They searched for nearly an hour. In twenty minutes, the cathedral would be closed for tourists, and Lynx and Sark would have to come back tomorrow. "We tried, kitten, but we'll just finish up tomorrow," he told her as they walked out.

"Yeah," Lynx said, downhearted. She looked up at a great statue of the Virgin Mary as they walked out. Something caught her eye, and she stopped.

"Lynx, what is it?" Sark asked.

"Master, do any other statues of Mary in the world have her wearing a necklace?" Lynx asked, walking up to the statue, crossing and focusing her fingers.

"No,"

Lynx smiled. She slowly and gingerly touched the jeweled necklace of the Virgin, and brushed away the thin layer of dust that had settled on the jewel and made it look like a part of the stone. As Lynx cleared the dust, a faint inscription appeared:  the symbol of Rembaldi. Lynx reached around the statues head as Sark blocked her from the guards' view. She lifted the necklace off, and the rest of the dust fell to the floor. The chain was thin and pure gold. The amulet was a carved jade stone and was almost no bigger than a human eyeball. "I found it!" She said joyfully.

"Good eyes," Sark commented. "Now, put it in your pocket so we can get out of here,"

* * *

Lynx lay on her hotel suite bed. She held the amulet and watched it slowly turn as it reflected the room's light. "What's it supposed to do?" she asked as Sark came in, drinking wine straight from Normandy.

"Don't know except it activates Ildire," Sark said, staring out at the Parisian skyline.

Lynx rolled onto her back, "And what's Ildire?"

Sark shrugged slightly, "I don't know. No one really does except it's Rembaldi's greatest work. It could be a fatal weapon, some sort of machine, or simply a music box. But, now that we have the amulet, we'll all know soon enough. I talked to Sloane, and he's having Ildire moved to Greenshire.  Just two more days,"

"It's exciting, I suppose," Lynx said, staring at the ceiling.

"Suppose? What do you mean, suppose?" Sark then considered, "Oh, well, you haven't dedicated most of your life to Rembaldi like Derevko and Sloane,"

"What about you?"

"Derevko found me when I was eight.  My parents had died in a car crash and I ran away from the foster home they put me I in.  At that point she was right in the middle of her research, and I got swept up in all of the excitement," Sark walked over to her, swirling his wine glass. "Lynx, are you sure you can't remember anything? Not even the faintest memory?"

"I have dreams sometimes," Lynx finally admitted. "They're never very happy. Usually they're me getting taken away or my family dying. And I can never see their faces. It's as if they're being hidden from me,"

"That's too bad. It would have been nice if you even knew where you came from," Sark commented. 

 "I just want to know who took away my memories and for what purpose," Lynx said. "And where I learned what I know."

"Memory loss can be traumatic," Sark said, sitting down.

Lynx shook her head, "No, my memories weren't lost. They were taken from me, and I want to know why," Lynx said harshly.

Sark set his glass down on the floor, and leaned over to kiss Lynx's face. Before long, they were both kissing and Lynx forgot that he was her Master.

"Lynx," Sark said, moving a lock of hair off of her face, "I swear to you, I will find out what happened to you, no matter what,"

AUTHOR'S NOTE- I'm so happy with myself! That and I got my hair cut and highlighted today, so I'm pretty happy about that too.

Character Bio- Carson

Name: Holloway, Carson

Call Sign: Playboy

Birthday: Unknown

Age: Unknown but assumed to be twenty

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 175 lb.

Eye: Blue

Hair: Black and short

Blood Type: O-

Characteristics: berserker blood, tattoo of snake on right ankle, single earring on left lobe 

Parents: Unknown

Special Skills: Unknown

Education: Unknown

Personal Connections: Sark; Derevko, Irina; Sloane, Arven; Lynx; Masenkov, Dmitri; Masenkov-Erickson, Sheila

Personality: suffers from amnesia. Laid back and only serious when it comes to business. Likes to practice martial arts, especially kung fu and karate. Occasionally will assassinate leaders of military if asked, but prefers "commandeering" items to killing. Likes Lynx.

La la la! So tired! U_U . . .ZzzZzz

Love, Tsuri


	6. Escape from Paris

**Chapter 6- Escape from Paris**

Location- Paris, France

"Lynx! I'm going out, do you want to come?" Sark called as he went for the hotel room door.

"Sure! Where're we going?" Lynx came out of her bedroom fitting in a hoop earring into her pierced lobe.

"A place called "The Fix", its frequented by _our_ kind very often. . . what on earth did you do to your hair?" Sark had turned around quickly and now stared at Lynx.  She was dressed head to toe in some hue of green. She had on a short, spiked black wig with acid green tips. Her faux snakeskin halter dress glittered, and her green wrap-around laced heels clacked on the marble floor of the suite. The Rembaldi amulet shone under her collar necklace. "That is not to be worn as a common adornment!" he told her.

"Oh liven up," She told him, fluffing the wig to make it livelier. "I'm the Chosen and I'll wear **my **amulet how I want to.  And just so you know, I was going out anyway. And you need to loosen up too," She took a long strip of electric blue cloth from her bustier, and threw it at him.

Sark held up the satin tie, "You cannot be serious," Lynx only smiled.

* * *

Sydney walked with purpose through the Parisian club.  If Sark and his associate weren't here, they probably were no longer in France.  "The Fix" was just the place that underworld terrorists like them thrived for. "Boot Camp, this is Mountaineer, I'm in position," She said, dodging a couple doing a form of what looked like interpretive dance. 

"Rodger that, Mountaineer. Stand by," Dixon's voice crackled from thousands of miles away.

Sydney pulled at the tight purple leather top of her dress.  How they expected her to successfully defend herself in this get-up, Sydney didn't know.  She glanced around the club, blending into the crowd.  From her position, Sydney could see the front and rear exits of The Fix as well as the entire first floor.  Sark and his woman had better show up soon, or else Sydney would start to get fed up with waiting.  As calm as her exterior appeared to be, Sydney was not very patient tonight.

"Boot camp to Mountaineer, come in Mountaineer," Marshall's voice called loudly in her ear.

"Go ahead Boot camp," Sydney smiled as a waiter handed her a drink.

"Sark and our mysterious lady are coming in right now," Marshall said just as Sark and Lynx walked in arm in arm flanked by four beefy bodyguards.

"That's a whole lot of security for just Sark and a minor associate," Sydney commented. 

"If you ask me they look a little cozy," Marshall said.

"I'm going in," Sydney said, leaving her drink on the nearby bar.

"Mountaineer, wait!" Dixon called into her communicator, only to be ignored.

Sydney watched as Sark and his girl took a booth by the karaoke stage. Their bodyguards spread out, and eventually melted into the crowd. Some were even only a few people away from Sydney's own team of hidden operatives.  They both sat down and immediately engaged in a deep conversation.  Sydney moved even closer, eventually she was almost able to see the whites of their eyes.  _Almost there!_

* * *

"You didn't tell me they have karaoke here!" Lynx said gleefully when she saw a poor French man make a fool out of himself.

"Well, I didn't know if you would like it," Sark took a sip from his drink.

"You mean you didn't want me to have you sing," Lynx smiled.

Sark shrugged, and then looked at her, "I dare you,"

Lynx laughed, then looked puzzled, "You dare me to do what?" 

"I dare you to get up there and sing,"

Lynx considered, and then nodded once, "Okay," She scooted out of the booth and made her way towards the empty stage.

"I wasn't really serious," Sark called after her.

Lynx stood to the side of the stage as she made her selection of song.  She paged through the book, reading the French with ease. Then, she saw a song she recognized, one she had sung in the pub that the men had actually liked. She waited after a trio of drunken German girls finished a horrid rendition of 'Lady Marmalade'.  She reached the center of the stage and removed the microphone from the stand. "And now, Monsieurs and Mademoiselles, the talented stylings of the great Mademoiselle Greenshire!" the announcer shouted into his own microphone as he loaded the song from the saved disks on his computer.

Lynx nodded her head to the beat as a fast paced punk rock melody flooded the club. She took a deep breath and sang:

 _I thought this night would never come,_

_ Never thought it could be,_

_ Never dared to believe you'd be sitting there,_

_ Watching and adoring me_.

_Because circumstances are not ours,_

_Our lives are not our own._

_I only wish I had more nights,_

_With you and I alone_.

Lynx nodded her head hard as she prepared to remember the chorus. She never looked at the lyric monitor.

_I'll be yours forever,_

_But we can't ever be _

_Together can't you see?_

_We'd be done._

_I'll be yours forever,_

_Just spend this night with me,_

_Only us:  you and me,_

_We'll be one._

The crowd went wild as she started to dance (and rather well too) during the drum and guitar duet.  Lynx was full of energy; she'd never had more fun.  She smiled and even shouted in exhilaration before starting the second verse.

Sydney watched the girl on stage.  She was a great performer, she had to give her that.  If she had chosen that song for herself and Sark . . .well, she'd done a good job.  But, Sydney wouldn't even give them the one night.  A few minutes after the girl got off that stage, Sydney would surround their table with her crew, and take them without an incident.  Sydney even clapped as the girl finished on a dramatic high note, though not as loud as the stomping, shouting crowd.  Then, she moved in.

* * *

"You were great," Sark told her as she sat back down. He gave her a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.

"Here," Lynx took off the Rembaldi amulet and placed it in one of his hands. "You have to have this,"

"Lynx, you're the Chosen, this is yours," Sark tried to give it to her, but she only pushed his hand back and gave him a sad look. "Lynx," he asked, his face growing concerned, "what's wrong?"

"You must run. Have the guards come back and have them take you away," She told him, looking around the club.

"What are you talking about? I will do no such thing,"

"You want that amulet to ever connect with Ildire? Go now," Lynx looked at him with frantic eyes. "We have company. It's Bristow; she's here for the amulet and us. I saw her while I was on the stage by the bar.  They know nothing about me, and they have evidence against you. You have to run,"

"No, not without you,"

"If you stay right now, you do not care for me," Lynx told him with conviction.

"You're bossy," Sark gave her a hard look, and then seemed to resign himself. He leaned over and kissed her good-bye, "Good luck, kitten," He got out of the booth and was out of sight so quickly Lynx could have sworn he'd disappeared into thin air. 

_He'll have to teach me that, _Lynx thought just as Sydney Bristow and her crew appeared around the table. "Hello Agent Bristow, having fun?" Lynx asked politely.

"You are to come with me," Sydney told her tersely. "Any struggle, and we will be forced to subdue you,"

Lynx got out of the booth and stood before the agent. They were exactly the same height, "No need for that, Agent Bristow. I'll come willingly and quietly,"

"Where's Sark?"

"I think he went to the bathroom, but I'm not sure. He doesn't seem to be the talkative one, does he?" Lynx smiled.

"Take her to the car," Sydney told two of the six-team members. "We'll search for Sark,"

Lynx was grabbed roughly by the arms by her two captures.  They led her out of the club as quickly as possible. Lynx turned her head quickly to look back at all of the activity in The Fix. And, for just a split second, she saw Sark watching her from the exit door as the guards hurried him out. He seemed to see her too, and before the door closed shut on him, he blew her a quick kiss.

"Keep moving," The guard to her right told her.  At this moment, Lynx really didn't care.

* * *

Location- Wales, England

Date- January 18, 2004

Sark had all but given up hope that Lynx would ever come back to Greenshire Hall.  Almost four months had passed since the night at The Fix, and even the best operatives had broken out of CIA holds before now.  Sloane occasionally asked about the girl, but only to be polite. He had the amulet, so she didn't matter; until they found out only Lynx could put it in.  They had tried to put the amulet in, but it wouldn't go. No matter how many times they tried, it would not start.  Sloane ordered Sark to find the girl ASAP.  That had been two months ago.

Sark lay in bed that night, his thoughts wandering as thoughts do right before sleep.  His thoughts tonight were of not only the pressure from Sloane to find her, or of the security of his household, but of Lynx herself.  _Just have her be safe.  Safe, well fed and warm; she doesn't need to suffer.  She doesn't deserve torture. _"She doesn't deserve torture," he repeated aloud.

"But I was.  Every day they tortured me in one way, shape, or form." A very skinny, tall form appeared at the foot of his bed.

"Great, I'm dreaming of her returning again," Sark rolled onto his side.  "This isn't real,"

"But I am real, Sark," Lynx grabbed his right hand and squeezed.  "See?"

"Lynx!" Sark rolled to see her, his eyes wide. "Oh, God, it's you!"

"Yeah, it's me. Hey," Lynx exclaimed as Sark pulled her down into bed with him. She, however, quickly sat up to sit in Indian style on top of the sheets. 

"You said you were tortured?" Sark said, eyes growing dark.  "What did they do to you?"

"It was really nothing," Lynx looked away from him.  "For me at least,"

* * *

_Her clothes had been taken away and she was given a black outfit that looked like you'd do tai chi in it.  She'd been starved and kept awake for almost four weeks straight.  It was typical protocol to wear her down and demoralize her.  She was strapped into a hard metal chair.  A grey haired man and Sydney Bristow interrogated her._

_"Who are you?" The grey haired man asked her._

_"I am not important," Lynx said, looking at Bristow._

_The man grabbed her face painfully, "Don't look at her!  What is your name?"_

_Lynx rolled her jaw as he let go, "He calls me Lynx,"_

_"Good. How old are you?" He asked._

_"I don't know," Lynx sighed heavily._

_"Don't give me that you little liar" The man said, yelling right into her ear. "How old are you?"_

_"I don't know!"_

_* * *_

"Well, I'm glad they didn't torture you physically," Sark said, seeming glad at the idea.

Lynx looked at him through misted eyes, "Who said they didn't?"

* * *

The dial; it all rode on the dial.  It started at zero and went up to one hundred.  They'd only gone up as far as thirty-five so far, and that was excruciating.  Lynx didn't know how it worked, but whenever it was turned she was racked with pain from head to toe.  'Unrestricted interrogation' the black man had told them after Lynx wouldn't crumble under yelling.  Even though she was a woman, and they couldn't interrogate her as they would a man, the pain was just as bad. 

_"How did you meet Mr. Sark?" The brown-haired doctor asked her.  Bristow and her father stood off to the side of the room.  When Lynx wouldn't answer, his hand went to the dial. He smiled as Lynx's eyes filled with fear, "How did you meet Mr. Sark?" When she didn't answer again, he turned it up to forty._

_"Yeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!" Lynx screamed as her body twisted and convulsed as much as her restraints would allow.  Her breaths came hard as the pain subsided._

_"I repeat, how did you meet Mr. Sark?"_

_* * *_

"That's terrible," Sark shook his head. "How did you endure?"

"I knew I had to come back, that I had to activate Rembaldi's device," Lynx said. "The only thought going through my head was that I had to return to Greenshire,"

"But physical torture!"

"When that didn't work, they moved to mental torture.

Sark gave her a confused look, "What do you mean?"

* * *

_A smiling, black haired little boy and girl; they were held in the arms of a beautiful woman.  A small, newborn baby held in the arms of an exhausted looking Asian woman. A teenager acting in her school play.  A wedding picture of a French man and his new bride.  An entire family photo of a large group standing in someone's back patio.  Lynx stared at the pictures; the grinning faces boring into her head. The happy faces she knew that she had made sad through death and she almost began to cry struck her._

_"This is Ngo Shuichiro and his mother, Arika.  She's the wife of the Japanese diplomat someone in your organization took care of two days before her son was born," Jack Bristow, she knew his name now after two months, told her stiffly. "And the two smiling twins? They are Jeremy and Julia Latyner.  We know either you or your male counterpart killed their father.  Now, before I continue, I'm going to ask you a series of questions.  Are you employed by Sark?"_

_"Yes," Lynx answered him without even thinking._

_"Good," Jack seemed happy with the answer. "Did you ever meet Irina Derevko or Arven Sloane?"_

_"Yes," Lynx answered again.  "He liked to show me off,"_

_"Very good. Now, have you ever committed any crimes either by killing or espionage?"_

_Lynx didn't miss a beat, "No, I did not,"_

_"Then explain your presence in Cancun," Jack instructed. _

_"He gave me a vacation.  He said I'd been a good girl and I deserved a reward. I spent five days sun tanning.  And I've never killed anyone,"_

_"Did you kill U.S. Army General Watson?" _

_"No, I did not," Lynx looked at the pictures again._

_Jack turned back to his descriptions, "This is Rachel Flechenstein. As you can see, she likes acting, singing, and talking on the phone with her friends.  Her mother and father were tortured to death by one of Derevko's associates.  Rachel lives with a foster family now because her other family is over seas."_

_"No more," Lynx mumbled. "Please, no more."_

_"What is your association with Mr. Sark?" Jack asked her._

_"They sent me to him in September.  They only told me that he was a private landowner.  They never said I'd end up being captured and interrogated by the CIA," Lynx said tearfully._

_"Who are 'they'?" Jack asked, intrigued._

_"The agency who hires me out to people," Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks._

_"Hires you out?" Jack creased his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"_

_"I'm not one of Sark's associates," Lynx said. "I'm his whore,"_

_* * *_

Sark laughed out loud, "You told them you were a prostitute? What did they say to that?"

"They believed me after I told a few more fibs," Lynx said.  "I told them I had been an orphan raised in a Roman Catholic convent school who ran away three years ago and got swept up in an escort service agency.  Just got them to pity me and let me go after a week.  The CIA even paid for my plane flight back to England and gave me consolation money in the amount of $5,000 in sympathy pay-off for food and sleep deprivation, and unfounded reasons for torture," Lynx smiled.

"You are brilliant, you know that?" Sark kissed her cheek. "Glad you're back,"

* * *

"Did the truth serum work?" Dixon asked Weiss. It was after hours, but both men agreed to meet in private.

"Yes," Weiss said grimly.  "She sang like a bird,"

"Are you sure her memory was completely wiped of the experience?" Dixon looked over the report of the final interrogation.

"Yes, she won't remember a thing," Weiss said.  "She was a good little liar, got Sydney teary eyed a bit when she told her story. Yet, there was a bit of truth.  She really can't remember anything personal about herself,"

"Were you able to get the location of where she and Sark are living?" Dixon asked.

"Yes. They're located on a large estate in Wales, England called Greenshire Hall. And, we were able to confirm that all the mysterious killings were done by the girl and a man she called Carson Holloway."

"Holloway? Isn't that?"

"Yeah, I was surprised myself," Weiss said, getting up from his chair and making to leave the room.

"I'm sending in Sydney and a recon team to apprehend them in a week," Dixon said.  "I'm also sending you,"

"Okay, I'll be ready,"

 


	7. Rembaldi's Message

**Chapter 7- Rembaldi's Message**

Lynx walked out onto the diving board.  The pool was located in the center of the manor in what was once an outside garden.  It had been added by Sark, even though he seldom used it.  Lynx sat down on the edge of the diving board, her khaki pants allowing her to cross her legs.  She usually came here to think.  Tonight she was contemplating a play she had just seen a few hours ago.  She stared up into the starry night:

Come, gentle night; come loving, black-browed night; give me my Romeo; and when he shall die,

_Take him, and cut him into little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love With night and pay no worship to the garish sun.  O, I have bought the mansion of a love, but not possessed it; and _

_Though I am sold, not yet enjoyed.  So tedious is this day as is the night before some festival to an impatient child That hath new robes and may not wear them. _

Lynx stood up and continued to recite her favorite monologues:

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.  So Romeo would were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. O, Romeo doff thy name; and for thy name which is not part of thee, take all myself!

"I take thee at thy word!" Sark had snuck up from behind her.

"Aaaahh!" Lynx screamed as she slipped off the edge of the diving board and fell into the pool. She gasped loudly as she resurfaced and started to tread water. "What was that for?"

"I knew the line, so I said it," Sark said. "You look cold,"

Lynx swam over to the side of the pool, "Of course I'm cold. I'm swimming outside in the middle of January! I'm just lucky you keep the heater on,"

"Looks okay to me," Sark said, looking around as he took off his jacket. Then, without another word, he dove into the pool.

"What on earth are you doing?" Lynx laughed as he came up. "There's something wrong with you.  You're not yourself,"

"You were right, it's bloody freezing," Sark said, hanging onto the side.

"You're usually reserved, calm, collected, and completely unspontanious. There's something wrong with you," Lynx said.

Sark nodded, "Yes, there is. Sloane wants you to activate Rembaldi's device tomorrow night, and I don't want you to,"

"Why not? This is what you've been waiting for, hasn't it?" Lynx asked.

"Well, yes, but, I'm not sure what will happen when you do. Will this be good or bad?  Will you have to leave, or will it just play a song and we get on with our lives?  There's too many unanswerable questions to be certain of a future," Sark stared at the dark sky.  

"True, but if you never take chances, you have no hope for a future in the first place," Lynx said a she swam over to the ladder of the pool.  "I mean, the Americas or any of the world's islands would never had been found if people hadn't risked everything,"

"True," Sark followed her.  He spun her around in the water before she managed to climb up the ladder.

"Sark?" Lynx asked uncertainly as he leaned into her.

"Ssshh," He hushed. He kissed her, pulling her close.  And this time, instead of feeling nothing when he kissed her, Lynx felt a stirring in her heart.

* * *

"Michael, do you want steak or chicken at the reception?" Sydney asked as he drove them to work.

"I'm partial to steak myself," he said as he pulled into the agency parking lot.

"Okay, I'll call Angelo and tell him," Sydney entered that into her palm pilot. "Also, have you picked a best man?"

"Yeah, Weiss," Vaughn turned off the engine.

"Are you sure he's the best candidate?" Sydney asked as they walked to the main doors.

"It was either him or my college friend David. You know, the one who works at Chippendales,"

"Oh," Sydney nodded. "Good choice,"

"Miss Bristow, Agent Vaughn, Director Dixon wants to see you in the meeting room as soon as you got in," Marcia the intern said as they walked into the office.

"Sure Marcia," Vaughn said.

Ten minutes later, they were in the meting room as well as Weiss and six other agents. Dixon sat at his desk quietly, seeming to wait for someone.  When Marshall finally huffed into the office with a steaming cup of coffee, Dixon finally spoke, "I have gathered all of you here this morning because you are the best of the best.  And, as some of you know, we are going to move in on Sark and his associate, Lynx, tomorrow evening.  You will form the team that will apprehend them and bring them back here for unrestricted interrogation as to the whereabouts and all the information they have about the Rembaldi device, Ildire.  And, if possible you are to bring back the device in one piece. Marshall has the order of operations for this mission,"

"Right, now, Sydney will break into the house herself while the others wait outside in the surrounding trees," Marshall brought up the map and floor plans of Greenshire Hall.  "After she has disabled the security system, she will affirm it on the communicator and the rest of you will infiltrate the house and find Sark, Lynx, and any other people you find. Now, the security system is pretty tight.  The dogs will have to be avoided with scent killer, but the infrared sensors will be harder.  Our best bet is to just get the job done as soon as possible. There are wire triggers all over the grounds, but I've made a map of those so you can avoid them,"

"Good, Marshall," Dixon said. "Now, are you all clear with the plan?" The agents all gave nods and affirmatives. "Good, you all set out at this time tomorrow morning.  Get your affairs in order, and good luck,"

* * *

"Are you ready?" Sloane asked her, handing Lynx the Rembaldi amulet.

"Hell no," She said. In all honesty, Lynx felt as if she was about to throw up.

"Don't use that type of language young lady," Irina Derevko said as she stepped into Sark's study, followed by Carson.

"You're not my mother," Lynx said, snapping at her as Carson rushed over to her, picked her up and spun her around in a circle.

"Lynx! I haven't seen you in so long!" Carson hugged her tight. "I heard you were apprehended by the CIA and tortured.  They will pay dearly for that,"

"Huh, whatever," Lynx unwrapped herself from him and went to stand by Sark.  The Rembaldi device was to his right.  It was a simple dark brown and black box the size of a standard dishwasher that Sark said only weighed about twenty pounds.  Standing on his desk, the only indentation on the smooth surface was a small inverted square shape with an inverted diamond cut into it.  The diamond would fit the amulet perfectly.

"I don't understand," Derevko said.  "Why can't you or Arven activate the device, Mr. Sark? Why must it be this girl?" 

Sloane answered her, "I believe Rembaldi made it so only his Chosen could activate the device.  She must have a certain pressure, I believe, at which she places the amulet in the device. Only one person can exert a certain amount of pressure like that, so Lynx is the only one who can do this,"

Carson stepped closer to her, "Lynx, may I speak to you outside for a moment?"

"She's about to change history, you little idiot,' Sark said, putting his arm on Lynx's hip. "She doesn't have time for you,"

"No, Sark, I need to talk with him," Lynx went to the painting and knocked to open the passage. "Let's go,"

When she and Carson were safely in her room, Carson immediately began to kiss her. "It's been a long time since we were alone," he said with a smile.

"Carson, I can't be with you anymore," Lynx said, turning around. 

"Why not?" Carson's eyes blazed. "It's him isn't it? It's that damned English bastard, isn't? He's forcing you to do this!"

"No, he's not. I'm doing this because I have to," Lynx said.

Carson grabbed her arm, "But I love you,"

"Well I don't love you. You're a good person and I like you as a person, but I don't love you," Lynx said, twisting out of his grip. "I'm sorry,"

"Tell me why," Carson said, trying to contain his anger.

"Because I like, I mean love, someone else," Lynx climbed back into the wardrobe. She turned around and waited for Carson. "Coming?"

"No," He said, turning his back on her.

"Where's Carson?" Derevko asked as Lynx walked through the wardrobe.

"He's not coming," Lynx took the amulet from her pocket and stood in front of the device. She turned around, "Ready?"

"Yes," Sloane said. Sark and Derevko nodded.  Lynx took the amulet and gently pressed it into the device.

At first nothing happened. The amulet just stayed in its spot in the square of the box. Then, a low rumbling issued forth.  The device began to shake violently and the rumbling got louder. Lynx ran back to where Sark was and he put his arms around her to comfort her.  The others stood in awe as the shaking of the device got worse, almost to the point where it could have fallen off of the desk.  The rumbling grew to a high pitched, wailing screech that made everyone flinch.  Then, at one of the seams in the device, a piece of parchment began to roll out of the machine as if it was coming out of a regular printer. About a meter came out before an ink drawing appeared on the paper. Sloane made to go get it, but the screech grew to be too terrible that everyone had to cover his or her ears. The harsh ringing went on for about two minutes before the room was silent again.  Everyone gathered around the fallen paper, faces eager with excitement. This was it, the final message of Rembaldi.  Sloane picked up the parchment.  The inscription comprised of two ink drawings and a three-word message.

"Mr. Sark, it's you," Sloane said, looking at the top drawing.  And indeed it was; a perfect rendering of the man who now stood in shock.

Derevko recognized the second drawing, "It's Lynx.  It's the same drawing from the Rembaldi manuscript,"

"What's this mean, Mr. Sloane?" Sark said, pointing at the message at the very bottom of the parchment.

Sloane frowned slightly, "It says, 'Love each other'.  But, this is it? This is what Rembaldi wanted us to know?"

Derevko sighed, "Almost thirty years of gathering and deciphering research, and all we get is that Sark and Lynx like each other! Tsk, I'm leaving.  Lynx, where's Carson?"

"Probably still in my bedroom," Lynx said, bending over to study the drawings.

"Good bye, Arven, Mr. Sark, Lynx," Derevko left the room without another word. 

"I must be going as well," Sloane said, making for the door. "Mr. Sark, I want you to analyze every part of that parchment from top to bottom and preserve it in the best way you know how,"

"Yes, sir," Sark said, showing both of his superiors out of the room.  He turned back to Lynx who was still looking the parchment over.  "So, that was an interesting message,"

Lynx looked over at him, "Yeah, interesting and creepy,"

"Still surprised at how accurate Rembaldi's prophecies are?" Sark sat down beside her. 

"A little, but I'm getting used to the idea of surprises," Lynx flipped her hair out of her eyes.

"Really?" Sark suddenly grabbed her, and kissed her hard as he stood her up.  He pushed her against the mantle, continuing to kiss her mouth and neck.  He reached over to one of the griffin shaped mantle embellishments and pulled down. The entire fireplace swung around and revealed a short hall.  Sark unlocked himself from her and led Lynx down the hall.  It was a large bedroom he led her to; his bedroom.  Sark threw her down on the bed and she quickly pulled him down to herself.  

* * *

Sydney sat in silence as she flew on the jet with the seven other agents.  Vaughn sat down beside her, giving her a steaming cup of coffee, "Here, drink this,"

"Thanks," she sighed and stared off into the air in front of her.

Vaughn looked at her, "What's wrong?"

"I don't feel right about this mission," Sydney said. "Something's going to go wrong, I can feel it."

"How can you tell?" Vaughn asked.

Sydney shrugged, "It's just a feeling.  Something inside me is telling me we're wrong in doing this, that this goes against something someone has meant to happen," She looked at Vaughn. "I don't think we should do this,"

"Hey, it'll be alright," He said, putting a comforting arm over her shoulder. "Just remember we're finally going to get Sark and his female counterpart once and for all.  We have great evidence against them now.  They won't be able to get away his time,"

"The girl still worries me," Sydney said. "I know the story she fed us was false, but, I still can't help but feel like she does have some sort of tragic past, even if she herself doesn't know about it,"

"What makes you say that?" Vaughn asked.

"Her eyes, there's something about them that's shaded," Sydney took a sip of coffee. "Not that she's blind, just metaphorically shaded.  She's hiding something, something she might even be hiding from herself.  Something bad happened to her, Michael, and when I interrogate her, I'm finding out what,"

"Hey, Vaughn," Weiss walked over from the other end of the plane, "do you have a cell phone?"

"No," Vaughn answered. "Why?"

"Marcia wanted me to call her right before we leave the East American coastline, and we're flying over Manhattan right now," Weiss looked out the nearest window and pointed to the tiny blurb of city. 

"Weiss, are you two?" Sydney asked.

"Because you know forming a personal relationship between agents and interns is against our policy," Vaughn said, half smiling.

"Hey, and so is a personal relationship between an agent and her handler, but that didn't seem to stop you two," Weiss pointed out.

Sydney sighed, "True, but we waited until the downfall of SD-6.  You two didn't," She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. "Just don't get caught," she said as she handed him the phone.

"Thanks for the advice," Weiss walked over to a more secluded part of the jet's cabin.

"So, who do you think the girl really is?" Sydney asked Vaughn.

Vaughn considered, "I have an idea,"

* * *

To:  Michael Vaughn, vaughnm@cybermail.com 

_From:  Jack Bristow, bristowj@cybermail.com_

_Re:  Project Files_  

Vaughn, here are the files you asked for.  I think you'll find everything in order.

"Thank you, Jack," Vaughn said, leaning back in his chair as he read the e-files.  He bypassed all of the male files before carefully shifting through the girls.  Blonde, no.  African American, no.  Brown hair . . .yes! Wait, no she has blue eyes.  Asian, no.  Hey, there! Brown hair, green eyes, and she looks like the description Sydney gave:  skinny, a little tall for her age, angular face.  Hmm, what's her name?  That would sound right.

* * *

Vaughn took out the printed sheet of information on his find, "Her name is Danielle Ruben.  She matches the description you gave if you add about twelve years.  Same physical attributes, strong, a bit spirited, I think this could be the girl,"

"So, you think she was in Project Lifetime?" Sydney asked, studying the five-year-olds face.  "But, wouldn't that make her CIA?  What would she be doing with Sark?"

Vaughn sighed, "Jack gave the syllabus and the project rules and guidelines a few nights ago.  He said that he realized that this could actually mean something.  What I found out is that after their twelve to thirteen years of training, all of the kids were memory-wiped.  This would ensure that they would have a seeming innate sense of duty to their country and join the CIA when they were old enough.  These kids were given back to their parents, who'd signed them up in the first place, and given a false set of memories.  Some of the better ones, who were almost always orphans or foster children, were not given new memories, but a single sentence on which they would build a mission and ultimately, and inadvertently, work for the CIA."

"Why would any parent give their child over to such a program?" Sydney asked, a bit troubled.

"Most were military families with fathers or mothers high up in rank.  They wanted their kids to love and serve their country as they did.  They saw it as a way of being patriotic," Vaughn said.

Sydney scowled, "So they programmed them, like my father programmed me,"

Vaughn rubbed her shoulder, "Hey, don't be like that.  It was the same idea, just on a grander scale.  But, I've heard that the kids were perfectly happy when they were in the program.  They saw it as a big game when they were young, and an honorable service to their country as teens and pre-young adults."

"So, Danielle Ruben," Sydney said. "Could she really be Lynx?"

Vaughn was a bit surprised by Sydney's calling of the girl by her name, "Could be,"

* * *

"Mama?" Lynx wandered through the dark hallway, her soft doll clutched in her arms.  It'd been the dream with the ghosts and demons again that had scared her from her bed.  She was going to Mama and Papa's room now, thy always let her in bed with them when she was scared.

Lynx cautiously opened the door and crept inside.  "Mama?" Her papa was away again as he was most of the time.  Mama was there, though, and she rolled over at the sound of her daughter's voice.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" She asked.

"I had a bad dream," Lynx said childishly and timidly.

_"Ah, come here," Her mother beckoned her over. She picked up Lynx and held her tight as she lay down. "I won't let the monsters get you,"_

_* * *_

"Won't let the monsters get me," Lynx mumbled.  The room was still dark, it wasn't even close to morning yet.  She tried to roll over as she slowly awakened.  However, she found she was still being embraced tightly.  _But the dream's over_, she thought stupidly before she remembered that this was Sark's bedroom, and Sark's bed.  So there was only one person who could be holding her that tightly, and that idea frightened her.  It wasn't the actual act of; she was more than fine with that.  What really frightened her was that she was liking this, this loving another human being.  She realized this was a perfectly normal feeling for any person, she just had never realized this could actually happen to her.  Lynx wasn't afraid of Sark loving her, she was afraid of loving him.

Lynx settled back into the sheets and slept again.

* * *

Warm, summer day in the park.  The trees were green and full; the grass, a sea of dark green.  Nearby teenagers playing Frisbee and cricket.  Lynx sat on a thin blanket.  It was Family Picnic Saturday, a tradition of her family every Saturday in summer.  A strange, new little curly haired boy sat quietly next to her, "Mama, why doesn't he talk?"

_Her mother said his name, but of course in her dream Lynx couldn't hear it, "He's just adjusting.  He'll be fine in a few days.  Won't you?"  The little boy, who seemed to be about eight or nine, nodded his head vigorously and caused his curly hair to swirl around his face.  "See, he's fine," _

_"Hey, you want to go play with the others on the jungle gym?" Lynx asked the boy, trying to make him have fun.  He shook his head no.  "Fine, but I'm going," Lynx ran away from her mother, father (he was actually there this weekend), and the boy who wasn't her brother.  She ran fast and swift, the wind blowing her hair behind her shoulders.  Then, with lightening speed, she felt herself lifted up.  It was the man again, the man with the dark suit.  He was taking her away, shielding her mouth with his hand to squelch her cries and pleas.  Lynx watched her family get smaller and smaller as the man took her to the edge of the park and set her into a seat of a dark van.  And the worst part, Lynx couldn't do anything about it._

_* * *_

Lynx woke with a start, twitching sharply out of her slumber.  She breathed hard, she'd been holding her breath in her sleep.  She felt Sark's arms tighten around her, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it was just a dream," Lynx said, shuddering slightly.  "Just a memory,"

"Of what?"

"I don't know.  I just get images and impressions," Lynx sighed. "There's nothing tangible,"

Sark turned her around to face him, "I'm sorry I haven't been able to help. If I could-"

"I know you would.  I've gotten used to the fact I may never remember my previous life.  Maybe it's for the best" Lynx considered.  "Maybe I need to stop dwelling on the past and think more about the present and the future,"

"Future, eh?" Sark smiled. He seemed to be going back to sleep.  His lethargic attitude was beginning to affect Lynx.  She felt her eyelids going heavier.

"Hey, what's your name?" Lynx asked him, closing her eyes. "Your first name?"

"It's not important," he whispered in her ear.

"It is to me," Lynx told him. "I want to know."

Then, right before he fell asleep again, he told her.  Maybe it was 

* * *

Sark woke up later in the afternoon.  Lynx was gone; she'd left him about three hours ago.  After a shower and change of clothes, Sark set out around the Keep, looking for Lynx.  She usually never strayed from the main part of the manor, so he did not think she was in the outer wall.  He found her in the library, sleeping on one of the couches with a half read copy of Puzo's _The Godfather _in her hands. "Lynx, Lynx wake up," He shook her shoulder slightly, smiling when as she blinked her eyes into focus. 

"We're going to have visitors tonight," Lynx said as she sat up.

"What?" Sark's eye bulged and he sat down next to her.  "How do you know?"

"Carson called an hour ago.  Derevko made him.  They caught an agent in Cairo trying to sneak into their house and questioned him.  The CIA is planning a raid on this manor.  Sydney Bristow will come first, disable our security, and then her team will come and arrest us."

"What do you propose we do?" Sark asked, even though he was already forming a plan in his mind.

"Let me take care of Bristow myself.  I have a score I have to settle with her," Lynx's eyes grew dark and she stiffed in anger. "You have the guards take care of the team."

"I love it when you're like this," Sark said, bending over to kiss her.

* * * 

Sydney moved stealthily toward the giant manor; the full moon shown bright above her head.  Her team waited in silence for her in the surrounding trees.  So far, everything had gone off without a hitch.  They had swiftly and silently moved throughout the grounds for about an hour now, slowly moving closer and closer to Greenshire.  "Boot Camp, this is Mountaineer," She said into her communicator. "I'm going in,"

"Roger, Mountaineer.  Boy Scout, have the team ready for Mountaineer's signal," Dixon said more than five thousand

miles away.

"Yes, sir," Vaughn told Dixon from his perch in one of the large trees.  Even though it was winter and there were no leaves, the thick branches hid him perfectly.

Sydney moved toward the front door.  Taking out her tranquilizer gun, she shot both guards in the necks.  They'd be fine when they woke up, just a little disoriented. She opened the door slowly and winced slightly when it groaned open.  So much for a silent entrance.  Sydney wandered through the dark, dank corridors.  She was careful about turning corners; she never knew when that girl would show up.  Sydney neared a tall staircase that led to the middle of the manor.  There was a light at the top.  The silhouettes of Sark and Lynx stood before it.

"Miss Bristow," Sark called down. "I believe you have met Lynx before.  She wants to have a little conversation with you,"

"Go to hell," Sydney rebuked.

"That's not very nice," Lynx said, crossing her arms.

"I must excuse myself, Miss Bristow, forgive my rudeness. But I have to go take care of your friends before Lynx has her fun with you," Sark turned to his woman. "Have fun, darling," And after giving her a kiss, he left.

Sydney could see that the girl was unarmed.  She pocketed her own firearm and then rushed the girl, hoping to take her by surprise.  The girl seemed bored though.  She didn't even bat an eye as she pulled down on a tasseled rope hanging off a nearby tapestry.  Sydney was caught by surprise as the floor beneath her fell into a trapdoor, and Sydney fell into darkness.  She didn't even feel it when she hit her head on the stone floor and was knocked unconscious.

* * *

Sydney woke up in a dark, musty room.  From the pressure of the air, she guessed she was in one of the dungeons.  Her hands and feet were bound with manacles attached to a long piece of wood.  She recognized this device; she'd learned about it in sophomore world history.  It was a Medieval-style torture device called the rack.  She struggled for a while to see if the rack was old enough for the manacles to come undone, but she then noticed the new bolts and screws.  Sydney looked around the chamber.  A single light hung from above in the middle of the ceiling.  There were other torture devices around the room.  What bothered her the most, though, was that the walls were tinted red.  There had been blood on the walls, a lot of blood, and someone had tried to wash it all off but couldn't.  She then saw a dark figure in the far corner, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and looking at the helpless Sydney.

"Welcome to my playroom, Agent Sydney Bristow," Lynx got up and slowly crossed the room.  "I know why you are here:  to bring Sark and myself to 'justice'," she said the last word with a mocking tone. "I, however, have different plans.  Don't worry; you will not die, at least not yet.  I have to ask you some questions. The first being, why do you continue to seek us?  We are simple private landowners.  We only wish to be left in peace,"

"Don't give me that!  You killed five different people.  You viciously slaughtered them!  That, and you assaulted an agent of the United States of America, committed perjury, and associate with known terrorists!" Sydney's voice rang in the chamber.

Lynx smiled, "I never committed perjury.  I wasn't under oath when I told you my little sob story.  And, as I remember," Lynx knelt down and rested her elbows on the wood of the rack as if she was having tea or coffee, "you believed everything I said.  That is, until you gave me that truth serum," Lynx studied the surprise on the agents face with fascination. "You really think that weak stuff would have affected me? I just told you what I knew so I could get away.  And, as you can see with my memory gone, I can't remember much that would have been of importance to you. It really didn't matter,"

"I know who you are," Sydney said.  "Another agent found your identity, Danielle Ruben,"

Lynx stood up, her face an unreadable mask, "That is not my name.  I don't know where you get your intelligence from, but that is not my name!"

Sydney frowned, "But it has to be.  It's the only answer."

"There are more answers in the world than questions, Agent Bristow," Lynx move towards the gear for turning the rack. "Now, how shall I do it?  What do you fear worst in the world, Agent Bristow?"

Sydney stared at her in horror.

"Now that I think about it, you'd never tell me, that would be stupid.  I'll just have to figure it out for myself," Lynx turned the gear once.  The manacles pulled Sydney's limbs farther apart.  It didn't hurt, just stretched uncomfortably.  "I have a few questions for you, as I said before.  One, why do you look so much like me?  We have the exact same build and bone structure.  The only difference is that my face is rounder and my eyes are green, not brown. Tell me, why do you think this is?"

"Wouldn't know," Sydney sighed in an attempt to relieve the pulling in her chest. "Coincidence?"

"I don't think so," Lynx turned the gear again.  It began to hurt slightly time, right in her stomach.  "Question Two, you think I am this Danielle Ruben.  Who is she? What does she have to do with anything?"

"She was a subject in Project Lifetime.  She can only be you.  All of the other children were given back to their parents or to missions.  We have records.  Ruben can only be you,"

"What makes you think I was a part of Lifetime at all?" Lynx asked, genuinely interested.

"You have defensive moves only taught by the CIA.  Your fighting style is that of the CIA, and you're too knowledgeable to have this just be coincidence," Sydney told her all of this without fear.  She was Danielle Ruben; there was no reason to keep form her things she already knew.

"Who do you think I am?"  When the agent didn't answer, Lynx turned the gear again, and now the pain was evident on Sydney Bristow's face.  These answers didn't satisfy her.  "I'll ask you again, who do you think I am?"

* * *

Vaughn and the team had waited for over an hour.  Even if she was being stealthy, Sydney had taken too much time.  After receiving orders from Dixon, they decided to move in.  The team quickly went for a window in one of the four large towers.  One of the agents quickly took out a tube filled with acid.  He carefully applied it to the outer rim of the pane before allowing it to fall into the bush below.  One by one, Vaughn and his team entered the manor.  From the large study, they spread out into the hallway, careful not to make any noise. The team walked slowly down the corridor until they came to the steps leading to the keep.

"Alpha group go left, beta group go right," Vaughn said into his communicator.

"Roger Boy Scout," came seven replies one right after the other.

Then, a tall lanky figure appeared at the top of the stairs, "Agent Vaughn, nice to see you. Although when I have guests I usually like a bit of warning before they drop in," Sark said. 

"Sark, in the name of the CIA of the United States of America, I put you under arrest as an enemy of the state," Vaughn announced, his voice echoing in the tall ceiling.

"Oh, is that so?" Sark gave a slight nod, and soon Sark's personal guard surrounded the team.  "I'd love to go with you, but Lynx is playing with a friend, and I hate to disturb her when she's with a playmate.  I believe you know her, Agent Sydney Bristow?"

Vaughn turned pale.  He let his surprise be known by almost dropping his weapon.

"Ah, so you know how Lynx plays?" Sark taunted. He gave a slight chuckle, "I believe you know what happened to her last friend, Japanese diplomat Ngo Ichiro?  He wasn't very nice and Lynx unfortunately got very angry with him when he didn't want to talk to her.  She doesn't like being ignored, my kitten.  But, Agent Vaughn, tell me this before I shoot you, why is Lynx such an interest to you?  She's no different than any other operative of Arven Sloane,"

Vaughn steadied his mind.  He had to think fast if he was going to get out of this one, "She has a value to us.  We believe she is the Chosen One of Rembaldi," He lied quickly as he formulated a plot.

"Well, you're right on that one.  She is," Sark smiled at the agent's surprise.  "Now, Agent Vaughn, I must say adieu and good bye, for the last time," He raised his hand to signal his firing squad to shoot.

Agent Weiss suddenly whipped out a bomb.  He threw it into the middle of the room and with a loud bang, a bright light flashed for about a second.  This was enough for Sark's men to loose their focus.  The CIA wasted no time gunning most of them down.

_Shit_, thought Sark as he rushed to a nearby tapestry.  He ran behind it and down the narrow hidden passage that led to the torture chamber. _I have to get to Lynx.  We must get out._

* * *

The rack was almost pulling Sydney's arms out of their sockets now.  Lynx was growing weary of all the boringness of it all.  Idly, she turned the gear one last time.  She gave a satisfied grin when she heard Sydney's left shoulder dislocate.  The chamber was filled with Sydney's scared gasps and hard breathing. "Agent Bristow, that was your left shoulder.  One more turn and I could do that to the other one.  Or, I could rewind the gear and pop your shoulder back into place.  It all depends on you, really.  All you have to do is answer my question, who do you really think I am?  Don't go on what you've been told.  Tell me what **you** think,"

Sydney gasped for air, "I don't think you're Danielle Ruben,"

"Very good, Agent Bristow, what else?" Lynx rewound the gear once.  The pain in Sydney's limbs lessened.

"I know you're one of Sloane or Derevko's operatives,"

"Very, very good," Lynx rewound it twice. The pain was almost gone now, except for the throb in Sydney's left shoulder.

"I think," Sydney hesitated to say.  "You're Rembaldi's Chosen, no matter what they tell me,"

"Well done, Agent Bristow," Lynx rewound the gear all the way and took a syringe out of the inside of her jacket. "Don't worry, it's just morphine," She stuck Sydney in the crook of her good arm and undid the arm manacles.  Lynx gently helped Sydney sit up.  "Sit still and be quiet," Lynx told her as she grabbed her arm and shoulder.  With a wrenching cry from Sydney, Lynx popped her shoulder back into its socket. Sydney suddenly felt numb.  "Oh, forgot to mention," Lynx said, helping the agent lay back down. "I put a sedative in with the morphine.  You'll be a bit numb and tingly for a few hours.  I'd sleep if I were you,"

Sydney looked at the girl.  She was either an utter, complete genius like Marshall, or totally insane.

Lynx pulled in her chair from the corner and sat down next to Sydney's head, "I like you, Agent Bristow.  You're the first of my play mates who hasn't made me angry.  I just might keep you for a bit longer than I planned,"

"My, don't I feel special," Sydney said sarcastically.

"Now, now, Agent Bristow, you don't want to suffer anymore, do you?" Lynx asked as Sark ran down the stone stairs.

"Lynx, we have to leave right now!" He told her as he jerked her out of her chair.

Lynx was worried.  Sark was never this agitated unless, "They got through, didn't they?"

Her question was answered by shouts from Vaughn and Weiss as they rushed down the stairs to the chamber.

Sark took out his gun and Lynx did likewise.  She rushed forward, "Sark, go! I'll follow,"

"No, Lynx!" Sark was cut off as gunshots filled the room from Weiss and Vaughn's guns.

Lynx took cover by an old rusted guillotine and began to fire back.  Sark knelt behind the rack.

"Weiss! Don't hit Sydney!" Vaughn called from his position twenty feet from Lynx who fired at him without stopping.

"I know that!" Weiss dodged a bullet form Sark.

Sark didn't seem to want to waste anymore time.  He rushed over to a wall that was covered by an old iron cage.  He opened up what had looked like a brick and was punching in a security code to get Lynx and himself out of there.  

Lynx saw this and stopped firing.  She also saw that Sark entire torso was exposed to Vaughn's line of fire. Vaughn must have realized this and turned away from her to Sark.  Lynx saw it all in slow motion.  Sark was able to open the door, but realized too late that Vaughn's gun was aimed right for his heart. Lynx sprang up and sprinted over to him as Vaughn fired. "JULIAN!" she shouted as she pushed him out of the way into the passage.  She saved him, but caught the bullet in her right shoulder.  She fell into the passage after him, and stood up right away and closed the passage door. "Come on," she said, running down the passage; she didn't know where it led. The only thing keeping her going was pure adrenaline and determination.

"Lynx! Stop, you'll hurt yourself!" Sark sprinted after her, but she kept going.  They came out some eight hundred meters later into the old stables that sat in the back of the grounds. Lynx saw a black sports car and immediately got into the drivers seat.  Sark got in with her.  "Maybe I should drive," he suggested, but Lynx gunned it anyway.  She drove out of the open doors and onto the back road that lead out of the grounds without a single word.  She turned on the radio as she gunned it out of the gates.  An American puck rock song flooded the car as they drove off into the English countryside.

"I love this song," Lynx smiled. "_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,_" she sang as she drove along.

"You're crazy, and I love it," Sark said, pulling some gauze out of the first aid kit he found in the glove compartment. He started to dab her shoulder, even as she drove.  He fixed it into place with some tape and took a cell phone out of his pocket.  "Drive to the airport.  I'll have my jet ready to go when we get there.  I'll take care of you on the flight to Japan,"

"Japan?" Lynx questioned.

"Yes, I have a flat in Tokyo," Sark said, punching in the speed dial number.  "They won't expect us to get far with you injured,"

"Julian," Lynx used his first name a bit hesitantly.

"Yes, love?" Sark looked at her as he heard the phone on the other end ring.

"When I was shot, I remembered," Lynx said, trying not to get emotional.  "It must have been the trauma from getting shot or something,"

Sark shut his phone with a snap, "What do you mean remembered?"

"My name, Rena," Lynx cried a single tear.  She was so happy, and yet sad at the same time because she finally remembered her name. "My name's Rena.  Rena Derevko."  

AUTHOR'S NOTE- dum dum dum! Sorry I haven't uploaded for a **very** long time, but you know how it gets when you get really busy and you only have time to write and not get on the Net, or fan fiction. Oh, I forgot my disclaimer (can't have that).

DISCLAIMER- I don't own the song, "Numb," or represent the band that performs it, whoever they are.

Phew, glad I got that out of the way.  So, Lynx (or Rena as she will now be referred to as) finally remembers who she is, but will that be all she remembers.  Also, is she related to Irina Derevko, or is the name just a coincidence? If she is, is she Sydney's half or full sister? 

JULIAN! I just love Sark!  Hee he!  If they ever kill his character off, I swear I'll never like ALIAS the same ever again.  I'll still watch, you know, because it's addicting, but it'll never be the same without Suave and English Sark.

Well, nightie night!

Tsuri

        


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